Some New Pleasures
by doopdoop2
Summary: [Fantasy AU] Kirishima is a selkie who finds Bakugou after his village is destroyed. As their relationship is beginning to grow, they meet up with Midoriya, also from Bakugou's village, and Todoroki, a stranger with a past he won't reveal. How will coexisting change them? And how does one make a new life when there is nothing left from which to build? [On hiatus]
1. Part 1, Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** I've been posting this on Archive of our Own and I decided I might as well post it here simultaneously. This story originally began as a one-shot, but I decided I liked this AU enough to continue.

FYI, Selkies are creatures from Scottish mythology that can change between a seal form and a human form. They have a sealskin that allows them to turn from human to seal form, and without it they are stuck as a human.

* * *

Kirishima was out to sea when all the fish began to swim towards the shore. They passed by him without seeming to notice him at all, some actually bumping into him in their mindless haste.

What could he do but follow?

When he was near enough to shore to see, he stuck his head above the water, peering in the direction the fish were even now still swimming towards. On shore was a boy. The fish were beaching themselves at his feet, the tide silvery and slick with scales.

The boy was starving-thin. His eyes were wild, his cheekbones gaunt, and his clothes were tattered to the point of being no protection at all. He looked out to sea blankly, noticing the fish at his feet no more than they had noticed Kirishima. After a moment the boy crouched down and, pushing fish out of the way, cupped his hands beneath the water, then brought his cupped hands to his lips.

Kirishima swam close enough so he'd be able to touch the bottom, then ducked underwater and transformed into a human, slinging his skin over his shoulder. He came above the water to see the boy tasting the seawater and making a face.

"Why are you doing that?" Kirishima asked him.

The boy looked at him for the first time, surprise barely registering on his face. "I'm thirsty," he said, and Kirishima heard it in his voice, which was little more than a rasp. "I'm so thirsty…"

"Don't drink the seawater!" Kirishima said, climbing out of the sea. He staggered and nearly fell - he could hardly walk, the shallows were so thick with fish. "There's a stream nearby. Let me show you."

The boy followed him. It was only about a half mile, which they passed in wordless silence, broken only by the sound of the waves breaking, the gulls overhead, and the fish splashing. The birds were beginning to notice the fish, some of which were actually beaching themselves, and swooping down to feast as soon as the human was safely out of range.

Kirishima knew that words would be useless until the boy drank, and probably until after he ate too. Kirishima knew the single-mindedness that came hand in hand with that kind of desperation. The boy's world had narrowed to food and water; Kirishima might as well not exist.

When at last they reached the stream, the boy lowered his head and drank straight from it, not even bothering with cupping his hands. The fish, Kirishima noticed, were now trying to swim upstream, against the flow. They were too large for the stream, and there were far too many of them; they were getting stranded on land left and right, and somehow still trying to hop their way towards the boy.

"What are you?" Kirishima asked, when the boy had finally finished drinking.

He got only a blank stare, the boy uncomprehending. "Who are you?" he tried again.

"Bakugou," the boy said, wiping his mouth with the back of one arm.

"Why are they doing this?" Kirishima gestured towards the fish.

Bakugou looked down at them, his eyes widening slightly. He hadn't actually noticed them, Kirishima realized. "I…"

"I've never seen anything like this before in my life," Kirishima said, speaking slowly. He didn't have all that much experience with humans, but he could tell that this one was having a hard time comprehending all this. Whether that was because of his physical state or whether he was actually slow, Kirishima wasn't sure. It called for all the gentleness he could muster. "Did you do something to the fish to make them come to you?" Well, that was obviously a no, judging from the boy's reaction to them. He amended his question: "Do you have any idea why they might be reacting to you like this?"

"No," Bakugou said, staring at the fish, who were still struggling to get to him and dying for all their effort. "I've never been to the ocean before."

"What about lakes? Rivers? Does this happen then?"

"I don't know!" the boy said, the desperation entering his voice again.

"You're hungry," Kirishima said. It wasn't a question. "Let me cook up some of the fish for us, and we can talk after."

The boy nodded, grateful, and they filled their arms with fish.

Bakugou ate like someone starved, licking the juice from his fingers and never taking his eyes off the food. Kirishima did not doubt he would eat anything put in front of him. When he'd finally finished eating - because there were no more cooked fish left - he curled up in the sand near the fire and went to sleep. So much for questions, Kirishima thought.

He went for a swim, but returned quickly after finding himself anxious to make sure the human was still there and still safe. He was, but the fire was dying, so Kirishima piled some driftwood on. Then he curled up near the fire and went to sleep too, his sealskin thrown over him. The cold didn't affect him like it affected humans, but the heavy weight of it made him feel protected.

Kirishima woke up just before dawn to find the human bleary-eyed and shivering, staring longingly at the fire, which had long since burned itself out. Without thinking, Kirishima tossed the skin over the boy's shoulders. He didn't even get a "thank you" in response, although he hadn't really been expecting one.

The sea was quiet. The fish were no longer beaching themselves. There were some dead ones on the shore, but most had been picked clean by birds or washed back into the sea.

"How did you end up at the ocean?" Kirishima asked the boy. He felt a peculiar sort of pride watching him nestle in closer to the skin. It was as if Kirishima's arms were around him, keeping him warm.

"I was a shepherd," Bakugou said. He still stared into the remains of the fire. "I - my village was attacked, so I ran."

He must have run for days and days without stopping, to get here in that state. Ran until he could not run another step. "You're safe now," Kirishima said. "This place is quiet. There are no humans around for miles."

The boy gave him an odd look, and Kirishima realized he'd betrayed himself, so he simply flashed him a grin and leapt to his feet. "I hope you like the taste of fish," he said, making his way down the beach to the shore. "I'm guessing you'll be eating a lot of it." If you stay here, that is, he thought. He hoped the boy would stay. He liked the idea of having a human.

Kirishima realized as soon as his feet touched wet sand that Bakugou still had his skin. He turned to go back but Bakugou had followed him and stood beside him at the shore.

The water began to shimmer and froth as the fish came towards them.

They both watched, open-mouthed and silent, as the fish swam towards Bakugou. It was just like the day before: they swam over each other and leapt out of the water to get at him. Bakugou was more curious now than he'd been last night, and stepped cautiously into the water, wading in up to his knees. The fish swam around him, pressing towards him.

"Don't go in too deep," Kirishima said. "They'll knock you over."

Bakugou gave a sharp laugh of surprise. He reached into the water and, a second later, pulled out a fish. It actually calmed when he held it. Kirishima grabbed for a fish too, but it slipped out of his hands and swam away. When he finally did catch one, it whipped back and forth, struggling to be free and staring at him blankly with one glassy eye.

Kirishima started the fire again. They drank from the stream and ate fish for breakfast, watching the sun rise over the sea. Afterwards, Bakugou wandered the beach, Kirishima's sealskin draped over his shoulders like a cape. Around midday, the boy fell asleep in the sun, and Kirishima stole it back and swam. He collected oysters and seaweed, things he knew humans could eat. Bakugou had given him two huge meals - unwittingly, but still - and the least Kirishima could do was find food for him in return.

But Bakugou wouldn't eat them. "There's enough fish," he said, looking away, when Kirishima offered them to him. "I don't need anything else."

Kirishima threw them back into the sea. He peered into the human's face. He wasn't very good at reading human expressions, but this one seemed to be angry. Whether it was at Kirishima or something else, he couldn't say.

Now the human was staring back at him . "You threw them away?"

"They were for you," Kirishima said. "You told me you didn't want them."

"But… you could eat them."

Kirishima shrugged. "I didn't want them. They were for you." He had no idea why the human was gazing at him like that. Frankly, it unnerved him. He wasn't sure whether he'd done something strange or whether this human just was an odd one. "But if you just want to eat fish, that's fine. I won't bring you anything else."

"Good!"

After spending the afternoon observing him, Kirishima decided the human wasn't actually upset at him. He had to remind himself of everything Bakugou had gone through recently. It could help explain the human's strange emotional reactions. The important thing was keeping the human safe and well-fed, and the second of these, at least, was astonishingly easy.

"How long do you think you'll stay here?" Kirishima asked him that evening. "You can stay as long as you want," he added, so the human wouldn't think he wanted him gone. "I don't mind. Do you think you will stay?"

"You want me to stay," Bakugou said, matter-of-fact.

Kirishima nodded.

"Why?" the human asked.

Kirishima looked him over - his narrow eyes, still suspicious of Kirishima; his shock of white-blonde hair, tangled and dirty; his skin, paler than any Kirishima had seen, already burned from his time bathing in the sun. The firelight painted him gold and orange, and made his eyes seem to glow. Kirishima saw his anger, saw him shoving the gifts away. Saw his fear.

Kirishima didn't say, Why did you answer my question with another question? or Because I want you to know you're safe, or Because I want to protect you or even Because I've always wanted a human.

Kirishima said, "Because I've eaten better in the last day than I have for a long, long time," and Bakugou's smile told him it was the correct answer.

"Yeah," he said. "Me too."

"What was being a shepherd like?" Kirishima asked, changing the subject even though his own question, of whether Bakugou would be staying, had not been answered; they talk about Bakugou's past for the rest of the night - of sheep and farms and the village.

It's only later that Kirishima realized the human had answered his question after all. Bakugou rolls over in his sleep and pulls the sealskin tighter around his body, and Kirishima throws another log onto the fire before settling in next to him on the sand.


	2. Part 1, Chapter 2

Kirishima did not know very much about humans. He knew they lived in groups with other humans, groups ranging from a dozen to thousands. He'd swum enough shores to see the greatness that humans could create: castles and palaces with towers stretching to the sky, cities that stretched further than his eyes could see, innumerable rooftops and streets. And the ships – ships like towns on the ocean, ships that cut through waves Kirishima thought nothing could weather.

He knew the things humans created, but he did not know _humans_. He'd sat as a seal on beaches where humans swam and played, and listened a little; he even, once or twice, had hidden his skin and ventured into cities, just to see what they looked like on the inside. They were loud and overwhelming. Humans themselves weren't very different from selkies were when they took on their human form, but there were just so _many_ of them, and that meant everything about them was more intense: the smell, the noise, the way crowds pressed in on all sides until he felt like he had to leave just to breathe freely.

Humans seemed frighteningly, overwhelmingly all-or-nothing. Either you avoided them, or you had to deal with the huge groups, the sprawling towns, the noise and bustle. Even fishermen's boats, though usually small enough that they were not intimidating, often came out in groups, and of course each boat had several men on board.

So this was Kirishima's first chance to really see a human up close, one single human, and study him not as a species but as an individual. At first Kirishima referred to him mentally as _the human_ , but it didn't take long – just a day or two – for him to begin thinking of him instead as Bakugou, because Bakugou was unique.

Bakugou was immensely helpful because of his strange ability to call fish (or rather the way he _attracted_ fish. It was not something he did consciously, but rather something that happened to him passively, whether he wanted it to or not). Kirishima had never had so much to eat in his life, and all without expending any effort. Normally he ate in his seal form, hunting in the sea and eating the fish raw, but now he had no need to hunt. He could instead cook the fish and savor the flavor of it, sitting beside the fire with Bakugou.

Bakugou was immensely helpful but completely unwilling to accept so much as thanks; gifts, Kirishima was fast learning, were absolutely out of the question. They made Bakugou _mad_. Kirishima was pretty sure – no, absolutely _certain_ – that this was not normal human behavior. Humans gave gifts to each other. They made far bigger shows of it than Kirishima had, and yet. And yet.

It hurt a little, the rejection of his offering, but it also intrigued him. But, if humans were anything like selkies in this regard, Kirishima knew that asking "why" would be futile. Selkies did not like to spend time talking about their feelings. This was one way in which Kirishima had always felt un-selkie-like. He wanted, always, to ask why, to leave no question unanswered.

Selkies, on the whole, lacked curiosity; it was one of the things that kept them alive. The selkies that stuck their noses into the business of others, particularly that of humans, often suffered for it. Selkies did not build towers reaching to the sky, or write books, or even very often go to war. They had no written language, and rarely even built shelters, immune as they were to the elements in their seal form.

The more time Kirishima spent with the human, the more human-like he felt himself becoming. He had half expected himself to grow tired of Bakugou's presence, to leave once the rush of easy-to-catch food wore off. In fact, the opposite happened. Kirishima found himself wanting to be with the human more and more. When they were apart, he thought of Bakugou nearly constantly.

They slept on the beach together. Kirishima wasn't used to sleeping in his human form, and found it uncomfortable, but he would think _This is what Bakugou is feeling, too,_ and not let himself change to his seal form. If the air was too cold for him, it was too cold for Bakugou. If he felt terribly exposed out there, on the beach, Bakugou did too; so after a few days he took to building a lean-to at the edge of the beach, where the sand turned to grass and forest, so he didn't feel so much like prey lying out in the open. If it meant a longer walk to the edge of the water during low tide, that was fine. They could pile leaves and beach-grasses around themselves, could meld the sand to fit their bodies for comfort.

On the third day of eating nothing but fish, Kirishima was growing bored, so he swam out again as a seal and gathered more things he knew he could eat a human – seaweed and oysters, the same things he'd gotten for Bakugou the other day and had ended up throwing away. He wondered what things there were in the forest for him to eat, wondered if Bakugou could hunt land animals for him to taste.

Kirishima lay the seaweed on flat rocks to dry, the way he'd seen humans do it, and ate the oysters immediately, raw. Bakugou, who'd been drowsing in the sun, sat up and watched him.

The oysters were good. Kirishima decided he still preferred fish, but it was nice to have a change. When he was done, Bakugou scoffed at him. "You ate them _all_? Geez…"

Kirishima turned his head and stared at him. Bakugou's eyes were tired from sleep, but mostly awake now, and glinting red in the sun. He met Kirishima's gaze and did not lower his eyes, as if offering a challenge, though he was smiling.

"I got as many as I knew I'd want," Kirishima said slowly, unsure what this was about.

"Tch," Bakugou said, shaking his head. "Whatever."

Kirishima stared at him even after the human looked away. "I don't understand."

"Hah?"

"I said, I don't understand," Kirishima repeated, knowing perfectly well Bakugou had heard his words. That sound Bakugou made, which Kirishima had initially thought meant "I didn't hear you," actually meant "I don't believe what you're saying" – Kirishima understood that now. Still, he found it easier, more often than not, to just repeat himself rather than trying to guess _what_ about his words Bakugou didn't get. "Why does it matter how much I ate?"

Bakugou blinked at him, then laughed. "I don't care how much you _ate_ ," he said.

"Then why did you bring it up?" Kirishima said, feeling as if the two of them were speaking different languages. "Why even say…" He thought about it. What had Bakugou said exactly? _You ate them all…_

"You _wanted_ some," Kirishima said slowly, looking into Bakugou's face for the answer. He wasn't sure if he was right.

Bakugou blushed, looked away. "No I didn't, stupid."

Humans were frightfully deceptive. At least this one was. He lied _all the time_. Some of his lies were understandable, but he also lied when Kirishima could see no reason for him to lie, and this was one of those times. _Why are you lying?_ Kirishima wanted to say, but that word – why – would only irritate the human more.

So Kirishima made a mental note: Bakugou did not like gifts, but he did like to be shared with.

When the seaweed was dry, they ate it together. Kirishima immediately regretted it.

"This is _awful_ ," Kirishima said, feeling like the taste of it was stuck to his tongue.

"Are you trying to poison me?" Bakugou said, coughing.

"No! I ate it too!"

But Bakugou was laughing. He hadn't meant it, Kirishima realized. "No more seaweed," he said.

"No," Kirishima agreed.

xxxxxx

Kirishima wasn't a good selkie. He never had been. When he met other selkies, he whined at them to stay with him, swim with him, hunt with him, but that wasn't how they lived. Selkies were solitary, meeting only to mate. Children stayed with their mothers until they were old enough to fend for themselves, then swam away and, more often than not, did not see their mothers again.

In the early springtime they would meet on beaches, almost always in their seal form, and bask in the sun, in groups of up to several hundred. Sometimes real seals would join them too. Selkies could smell the difference between seals and other selkies, just as they could smell the difference between selkies and humans, and it always seemed like the seals could do this as well. They always let the selkies be, and were even content to coexist with human-form selkies, because selkies never ate seals.

Kirishima knew they stayed in their seal form for warmth – spring or no, the water was still painfully cold for human bodies that time of year – and for protection against humans, who were often overly curious about selkies. But he wished they didn't always stay in their seal form, or that they met again in the summer when it was warm enough without the thick layer of blubber, because selkie-form seals did not talk. Even when he transformed into his human form and walked amongst them asking questions, they merely looked at him with their huge dark eyes, never more than mildly annoyed, but never changing into human-form to join in his conversations either.

Of course, the lack of speech was probably another reason they always took on their seal forms when they gathered in groups. Selkies were quiet and intensely personal. You might find a mate and spend several weeks together, both in seal- and human-form, and never learn the other's name, and that was normal.

Kirishima wasn't actually sure he was supposed to be a selkie. He felt, now and again, like there had been some strange mix-up before he was born, that his brain was supposed to go into a human or some other species. He'd never had a mate, but he wasn't sure he could do it – the intense closeness, the fun and passion of it, then the inevitable split. The risk that you might never see that person again as long as you lived, or that, even if you did, they would simply choose a new mate the following year, without even warning you. The risk, if you were male, of having children you never knew about and would never meet. It all seemed terribly sad to him, so much so that he'd deliberately avoided taking a mate, although of course he still joined the large groups when he could.

He did not realize exactly how un-selkie-like he was until he began to live with Bakugou, and began to feel that he would be perfectly content to live with this human boy for the rest of his life. When he had that realization – on about day four or five of their acquaintance – he held it at arm's length for a while, turning the thought over and over again in his head. It was _extremely_ un-selkie-like. Selkies did not have friends like humans did, selkies did not have lifelong mates or marriages or family units like humans did.

So Kirishima wasn't sure exactly why the thought didn't frighten him more. His delight at Bakugou's presence was a combination of having another person around in general, and the specific person he had around – odd, confusing, eye-catching, _interesting_ Bakugou. Bakugou was more entertaining than a selkie was, not because selkies were boring people but because they kept their interestingness locked up far below the surface.

He knew he would survive if Bakugou left. He'd survived before, after all. However, he also knew it would not be as fun as having the human around would be, and he would miss him. Kirishima tried not to think of how _much_ he'd miss him. Days and nights of solitude no longer seemed quite as bearable as they had before.

 _I will divide my life into Before Bakugou and After Bakugou,_ Kirishima thought. After Bakugou left him, he knew he'd be different. He felt himself changing already. He spent less and less time in the water, until there were entire days he didn't go into his seal form at all. He found himself getting used to his human form, even preferring it sometimes. This body was more sensitive, in both bad and good ways. Food tasted more intense. His vision was better, and much more colorful. Extreme temperatures affected him much more strongly, particularly cold; he never needed to curl up next to a fire in his seal form.

He didn't mind being in his human form. He could see himself spending more time this way and growing even more used to it – growing to like it more than his seal form. It would take some getting used to. He hoped Bakugou would stick around long enough for that to happen.

 _Maybe I will find another human, someday, after he is gone._

That thought stung. Kirishima did not expect it to, but it did. It stung so much it nearly brought tears to his eyes. He sat next to the fire with Bakugou. It was nearly time to sleep, but they were both just killing time, lazing about within the ring of warmth that surrounded the fire.

He must have done something odd because Bakugou's eyes found his and the human said, "What?"

"Hmm?"

"You made a weird face," Bakugou said.

"Oh." He reached a hand up to touch his own cheek. His hand had been resting under the sealskin on his lap, and the air felt terribly cold, so he quickly stuck it back underneath. "Sorry."

Bakugou snorted. "Don't be _sorry,_ I'm just wondering _why_ you made such a weird face."

Kirishima looked at him, thought how _beautiful_ he was with the firelight shining orange and gold on his skin. He was so fair, his skin had burned and peeled; his hair was greasy and sandy, his lips chapped raw. But he was beautiful. His eyes were clear and inquisitive, his face endlessly interesting and expressive. Kirishima had never felt so close to anyone his entire life, and Bakugou had only been living with him a handful of days.

 _I never want to make him scared to ask questions,_ Kirishima thought, thinking of himself and the way he felt around other selkies. _I never want to make him reluctant to ask why. I never want him to question his questions._ If anything, Kirishima wanted _more_ questions from Bakugou. He wanted Bakugou to want to know. He wanted Bakugou's curiosity and interest, craved those eyes focusing on him – a feeling that always made his pulse beat a little faster.

"I was thinking of what I would do in the future, when you eventually leave," Kirishima said, looking into the fire as he spoke. He half wanted to look at Bakugou's face, but was also afraid of seeing revulsion or annoyance there. Kirishima had no idea how Bakugou would react. "I thought, maybe someday I'll live with another human again, and the thought made me unexpectedly sad."

To his immense surprise, Bakugou let out a sharp laugh, a "Ha!" that was almost a bark. "Aren't you getting ahead of yourself?" he said.

Kirishima looked at him at last. Bakugou was smiling, his eyes sparkling. Not repulsed, then. Kirishima let out a breath he hadn't even realized he was holding. "I suppose," he said. Then: "What do you mean?"

"Who said I'm going anywhere," Bakugou said.

Kirishima refused to let his hopes get too high. "I just assume you will, at some point. Humans want to live with other humans. I'm sure some day you'll leave."

That made Bakugou look at him more sharply, his eyes narrowing. "You say stuff like that," he said. " 'Humans'…"

Kirishima was silent, waiting for him to finish the thought. He was almost certain Bakugou had seen him transform into a seal, but even if he hadn't, didn't he wonder about the sealskin, didn't he see him go out and spend hours in the water? Was he unobservant, or did he merely think Kirishima had been swimming?

Kirishima waited. He expected Bakugou to ask him what he was, if not human, but there was only silence. Bakugou said nothing. Kirishima's heart sped up, wondering what Bakugou was thinking. The fire was getting low, so he stood, leaving his skin on the sand, and went to the beach to gather more driftwood.

When he came back, Bakugou was wrapped in it. Kirishima felt suddenly warm, almost embarrassed; he wasn't sure if it meant anything to other selkies to let someone touch or borrow your sealskin, although of course they were always warned not to give them to humans or let humans take them, because stealing things was what humans could be counted on always to try and do. But Bakugou had always given it back when Kirishima had asked, or let him take it back without fuss as soon as he was done using it.

He had no idea what it was, then.

Kirishima realized he was standing in front of Bakugou, who still sat cross-legged on the sand. He held the driftwood in his hands, forgotten, the fire growing still dimmer behind him.

"Something wrong?" Bakugou asked.

Kirishima was silent.

"Is it because I stole this?" Bakugou shifted beneath the skin to emphasize. Kirishima shivered, as if he could feel an echo of the touch on his own human skin, although that was of course nonsense. "It's… what, seal? It's really warm," Bakugou went on.

"Yes," Kirishima said, trying to keep his face blank. Bakugou had to be pulling his leg, right? Trying to get a rise out of him?

"I can give it back if you want," Bakugou said, although he didn't move.

"No," Kirishima said. "It's okay."

He wanted to touch Bakugou. He wanted so, so badly to reach his arm out and run his hand up the boy's face, down the fragile skin of his neck to his collarbones, his chest, the flat plane of his stomach. He thought of the parts of Bakugou's body the sealskin was touching: shoulders, back of the neck, upper and lower back, arms. Kirishima thought about casting the sealskin aside and taking its place, threading his arms around Bakugou's neck and pulling him tight, letting Bakugou wear his body like a cloak over his shoulders.

Then, all at once, he realized where he was, what he was doing, what he'd gotten up to do in the first place. He turned around and tossed the wood into the fire. Sparks leapt out, one or two landing on his calves and stinging like biting flies.

"My point is," Kirishima said, sitting down in the now-cold indentation he'd left in the sand before he'd stood up in the first place, "my point is, you'll probably get lonely with just me for company, and want to go back to a city or whatever, where you can be around more people." He'd nearly said _human_ city, and had only at the last moment left out the extra word.

Bakugou thought about it for a moment. Kirishima was relieved to see him considering it seriously. "People are stupid," he said.

That sentence seemed to carry a lot of weight. Bakugou meant a lot more than stupid, Kirishima knew. Bakugou meant cruel, bloodthirsty, vicious. Kirishima had not brought it up, but he still remembered why Bakugou had ended up at that distant beach to begin with.

"And yeah, I might start to miss…" Bakugou made a gesture with his hand that Kirishima wasn't sure how to interpret. It seemed to encompass something broad. "…all that. Doesn't mean I'm planning on leaving. Even if I had anywhere to go to. Which I don't."

Kirishima hadn't even thought about that. He wondered if everyone had died, or only most. If there was anything left.

Kirishima understood that to live in a human city, surrounded by many human beings – not only your family, but others as well – and then having that city destroyed and those people killed would be awful. He understood it in a logical, distant way, and could not comprehend the awfulness of it. He thought about the pain he'd feel if Bakugou was killed in front of him, the horror and grief he'd feel, after just a few days of knowing the boy. Multiply that by however many humans lived there. Kirishima could not even begin to know that kind of pain. He found himself suddenly grateful that Bakugou did not speak of it, because he wasn't sure he wanted even to know its scope. He certainly didn't want to know how deeply Bakugou was actually suffering. Kirishima felt surprised, to realize they were already at the point where Bakugou's pain would affect him as well.

In a way, though, to know that Bakugou had nowhere else to go made him happy. That gave him a rush of guilt, guilt that mingled with the happiness but did not reduce it. Bakugou had no one but Kirishima to rely on. He wanted that, wanted Bakugou to need him as much as he already needed Bakugou. He knew it was very humanlike of him to want this, not selkie-like at all. Selkies broke bonds as often as they made them, and lived without the grief that separation caused. They lived as much as possible without this feeling of needing another person at their side. It would really only be felt by a mother for her children, and by children who lost a mother too soon. All other bonds were made _to_ be broken.

Kirishima's wanting was human in its intensity. It filled him to the brim, made him want to laugh or cry or pound his fists into the sand. "I'm glad you're staying," he said, although Bakugou knew that. "Look, Bakugou…"

"Yeah?"

"If you leave," he wanted to say "when" but didn't want Bakugou to interject with the same arguments again, "can you tell me beforehand?"

"Why, so you can…"

Kirishima's face must have fallen at the insinuation that he would _do_ anything to prevent Bakugou from leaving that Bakugou didn't even finish the sentence. He cleared his throat. "Sure," he said, his tone more subdued. "Yeah. Sure."

"Thank you," Kirishima said.

He wasn't sure that Bakugou was telling the truth, or just saying whatever he had to say to shut him up for the time being. Bakugou, of course, lied often. Humans in general did. But Kirishima believed he was telling the truth, although he couldn't put his finger on what made him believe that.

"Well, I'm fucking tired," Bakugou said. "And you're going to let me use this tonight, yeah?" He was talking about the sealskin.

Kirishima made a mental note: while Bakugou did not like gifts, he _did_ like to possess things, borrow things. Use things. Kirishima's things. Kirishima's sealskin.

 _Does he know?_ Kirishima wondered again, not knowing why Bakugou would make such a big deal about it if he didn't. Well, it was comfortable and warm. Or maybe he just liked getting a reaction out of Kirishima.

He realized sharply that Bakugou was still waiting for his answer, and nodded. "Yes. That's fine."

"You gotta get yourself another one," Bakugou said, and Kirishima laughed aloud in surprise.

Maybe Bakugou _didn't_ know, then. He wasn't sure if the idea gave relief or anxiety. In truth, he'd half been hoping Bakugou had known all along, and that his relaxed attitude just proved what a good human he was.

In the end, this just meant Kirishima was going to have to tell him outright. That was the only way he'd know for sure that Bakugou was truly aware of what he was. Bakugou seemed to think either he was a human being, acting strangely, or that he wasn't human, but Bakugou didn't know what he was.

 _As long as he doesn't leave with my sealskin,_ Kirishima thought, not daring to finish the thought because of the thrill of terror it sent up his spine.

"I'm going to sleep now," Bakugou said. Kirishima had been staring into the darkness, lost in thought. He turned to see Bakugou snuggling down, the skin around his shoulders. An embrace.

Kirishima couldn't sleep for a long time thanks to the feeling that pooled in his stomach – nerves and something else, mixing and flowing through him and making his heart beat fast, even long after Bakugou was asleep.


	3. Part 1, Chapter 3

Kirishima was beginning to realize he needed less sleep than Bakugou did. Even on nights they stayed up late, he found himself waking around dawn, only to see the other boy still fast asleep.

This morning was no different. Kirishima sat up groggily and stared at the ashes of last night's fire, feeling cold but not willing to expend the effort to start it again. The sun had risen, but just barely, and the clouds were painted pink and orange and gold. Bakugou was still fast asleep. He lay on his side, the sealskin still wrapped around his back and shoulders, and his legs were curled tight against his body.

The affection Kirishima always felt when he looked at Bakugou was hampered somewhat by the sharp pangs of hunger he'd been feeling since he had first opened his eyes that morning. He got up and walked down to the edge of the water. As he'd thought, there were no fish visible near the shore. The effect Bakugou had on them seemed to only happen when he actually touched the water, and went away quite rapidly after he left it.

Kirishima dipped his feet in the waves, wincing at how cold it was. Even though it was summer and the air was warm enough during the day for humans to swim comfortably, the sea was still chilly, particularly in the early mornings. Kirishima wasn't used to feeling cold at all; normally, whenever he began to feel it, he'd shift to his seal body and ride it out.

He waited a little while, walking along the shoreline, but he was beginning to feel antsy and impatient in addition to hungry. Kirishima's conversation with Bakugou from the night before was still fresh in his mind, and he couldn't help playing it over and over again, as if by thinking back on it he might find new meanings in Bakugou's words and reactions. He would _have_ to tell Bakugou, just to make sure the boy knew, or else the uncertainty of it would kill him.

After what seemed to him like a very long time – though it was probably less than half an hour – Kirishima made his way back up the sand to Bakugou, who was still asleep.

He crouched next to the boy and looked at him, willing him to wake up. But Bakugou didn't even shift in his sleep. His arms were crossed at his chest, one hand on each shoulder, keeping the sealskin in place. It was endearing, and would have been more so had Kirishima not been so damn hungry.

"Bakugou," Kirishima whispered.

No reaction.

 _Fine,_ Kirishima thought, as if it was some great hardship to touch him. He reached out and put his hand on top of Bakugou's, rocking him gently. "Bakugou."

"Mmm?" He let out a sleepy moan but did not open his eyes. "What'ssit?"

"I'm really hungry," Kirishima said. "Either go step in the water, or give me my sealskin."

That made Bakugou crack open an eye. " _Haah_?"

That noise again. Kirishima smiled, wanting to smooth the boy's sleep-mussed hair. "I said, you should either go step in the water, to attract the fish," he said, "or give me my sealskin, so I can hunt."

Bakugou opened both eyes now, unconsciously pulling the skin tighter around his shoulders. "What the hell are you on about?" he said, his voice gravelly with sleep.

"Do you know what I am?" Kirishima said gently, folding his hands in his lap. He wondered if he was hiding how nervous he felt or if Bakugou would be able to pick up on it, even half-asleep as he was.

Bakugou, apparently able to sense that this was an important conversation, struggled into a sitting position. He glanced at the sun, still low on the horizon, and wrinkled his brow. "Uh," he said, scratching his neck and squinting. "I, uhh…"

"I am a selkie," Kirishima said, speaking slowly. He did not want to be misunderstood, did not want to mess this up, _this_ of all conversations. He was almost glad Bakugou was so sleepy; it made him guileless, and Kirishima could see the boy's emotions more clearly in his face. "Do you know what that is?"

Had he been more awake, Bakugou probably would have blanched at the overly-patient tone Kirishima was taking, but as it was he just shook his head.

"With the skin I can transform into a seal," he said, "when I'm in the water."

"Oh-hh," Bakugou said, glancing away. He let go of his grip on the sealskin. "So you're… half human, half seal?"

Kirishima smiled, feeling tired. _What a very_ human _thing to say_ , he thought. "No," he said, "I am a selkie. I'm not a human or a seal – I'm always a selkie. But I have a human form and a seal form, and I cannot transform into my seal form without the skin, and I cannot hunt like _this_ ," he gestured to his own body, "and I'm really hungry, so would you please give me my skin?"

He was half ready to tackle Bakugou into the sand to get it back, but the other boy, maybe sensing the hard, audible shift in Kirishima's tone from amusement to annoyance, handed it over. He continued to stare at Kirishima expectantly, still blinking the sleep from his eyes.

Kirishima knew what Bakugou was waiting for, why he was watching so carefully. It was time to show him, wasn't it? Kirishima turned towards the water, throwing the sealskin over his shoulders. The material was still warm from Bakugou's body heat, and it had even picked up some of his scent, earthy and dense and undeniably human in a way Kirishima couldn't describe with words. Familiar because it was Bakugou, unfamiliar because it was human, and altogether quite a good smell.

He reached the shore and chanced one look back. Bakugou hadn't moved from where he sat on the sand, his legs curled up into his chest, his arms around them. His gaze, steady, impenetrable, still fixed on Kirishima.

Kirishima shivered and turned away again, wading into the water. Normally at this point he would already be in his seal form, but all of a sudden he felt self-conscious about it. Not that he wanted to hide it; it was too late for that, of course. No, just that he wanted to _minimize_ it, make it less visible, because Bakugou, as a human, would find non-human things less appealing than human things.

 _So you're half human, half seal?_

Kirishima knew it wasn't true. As he'd told Bakugou, he was neither human nor seal. Seals were animals, humans were humans, and he was a selkie, between the two but also wholly outside of them. Even in seal form, selkies were people, not animals. Being called half seal had annoyed him than he'd expected. He thought his patience towards Bakugou might be endless, but whether it was his nerves or hunger or just the offense he'd taken at Bakugou's implication, he felt cold and hurt.

Kirishima didn't transform until the water was up to his neck, but when he did, it was instant relief: this was a body made for the water, for _cold_ water. As a human, he'd had to fight to walk through the water as it had gotten deeper, but now his control was absolute. He turned around and looked toward the shore, although his vision was too poor now to make out whether Bakugou's attention was still on him. Kirishima did not doubt it was, though.

Then he dove beneath the water.

He'd _missed_ this, he realized: the dimness of the ocean, the quietness, the way it felt to cut through the water as gracefully as a bird flies through the air. Kirishima could hold his breath for a long time, at least an hour without difficulty or discomfort, and he intended to not surface for nearly as long as possible.

Kirishima caught several fish and ate them the way seals do, raw and quick, consuming them in two or three bites apiece. They tasted mostly of blood, because he was eating too fast to catch much flavor from the fish's flesh. It was good nonetheless. To do it this way made him feel more selkie, because it was how selkies usually ate, how they were taught to eat – quick, without wasting time.

As he swam, Kirishima began to think, and realized this situation he'd found himself in was uncharted territory. He had no idea how things would be when he rose from the water and turned back to his human form again. Bakugou might be gone, after all, and even if he wasn't, it was possible things would be irrevocably changed between them.

 _Bakugou has no one but me,_ Kirishima reminded himself, and hated the way thought made him more happy than sad.

At least, whatever way it went, things would be out in the open, and he would know where he stood.

xxxxxx

In the end, he was called out of his daze by the fish passing him by on their hurry to reach the shore. It was just like the day they'd met, except at that time, in the very last moments in the long-gone era of Before Bakugou, Kirishima had felt merely bored; he'd been floating idly in the sea, luxuriating in the sway of the current. Now, anxiousness made his pulse thrum in his ears. He snagged one last fish, tore it in half with a jerk of his head and tasted it on his tongue as he approached the land.

Its blood was still in his mouth as he turned back to his human form. He wiped his lips with the back of one wrist and saw a smear of red there, shocking red like a wound. He washed off his hands in the water but kept the taste of blood on his tongue, savoring it.

Bakugou was standing at the shore, just as Kirishima knew he would be. He had his arms crossed in front of his chest, as if he was angry or perhaps cold. Kirishima shook the water from his hair, smiling without meaning to at how good the sun felt as it warmed on his shoulders.

"I never heard of selkies until today," Bakugou said, as if there'd been no break in their conversation.

"No?" Kirishima stepped onto the land, and together they made their way back towards their campsite.

"I told you, I didn't live by the ocean. Of course there weren't selkies. There weren't seals, either."

"But had you heard of seals?"

"Well, _yeah_ , but…"

Kirishima laughed. "I'm teasing you, Bakugou." It felt so good to be able to look over and see the boy standing there, an over-exaggerated scowl on his face like being teased was the worst thing in the world. Kirishima could have sung with pleasure. "Selkies try not to mingle with humans. We figure, the fewer humans know about us, the better."

Bakugou looked skeptical. "Is that so?"

"I'm a bad selkie," Kirishima said quickly, knowing what Bakugou was thinking. "Don't judge selkies by how I am. Other selkies are nothing like me."

"I might not like other selkies, then," Bakugou said. Immediately after, Kirishima saw his face turn pink, as if he hadn't intended to say the words at all.

Kirishima stopped walking and turned to look at him. It was the closest Bakugou had ever come to anything resembling a compliment, and Kirishima felt a silly grin on his face. Bakugou, for his part, hadn't stopped walking, and Kirishima was forced to run a few steps to catch up to him again.

He felt light on his feet, as graceful and fluid as he'd felt just a bit ago in the water. It seemed almost as if he'd passed some sort of test, or perhaps Bakugou had, and a great weight had been lifted off of Kirishima's shoulders. Lack of disgust was perhaps a rather low bar, but Kirishima didn't know how these things normally went; he would take what he could get.

xxxxxx

That night, Bakugou didn't take his sealskin. Kirishima only noticed because of the boy's quite obvious shivering; he was coming to realize that Bakugou was more sensitive to cold than he was, even when he was in his human form.

It was after sunset, though not terribly late. They were both full of food. These were easy days to get used to, Kirishima thought, not for the first time. He was getting spoiled. These days would be hard to leave behind.

When he noticed Bakugou shivering, Kirishima walked around the fire to stand beside Bakugou, and dropped the sealskin into his lap. "You can use it," he said. "I don't mind."

Bakugou looked up at him, then down at the thing in his hands as if he was conflicted. Kirishima longed to know Bakugou's thoughts at that moment, because his face gave nothing away. He hesitated so long Kirishima thought he would refuse the skin, but in the end Bakugou only nodded and wrapped it around his shoulders, just as he had the night before.

"So you see now," Kirishima said, settling back down near the fire again, "why I can't get another one." He sat closer to Bakugou this time, not directly across the fire from him as he'd been before, and he had a better view of his face. He watched, unafraid, wanting, as always, to see the reaction his words would have on Bakugou, wanting to see the expressions his face took and to hear the cadence of his words.

"Ha," Bakugou said, smiling a little. "Yeah. Didn't think of that."

"You can use it anytime, as long as I don't need it. I'll let you know if I need it. You can use it as much as you want, just don't steal it." Kirishima didn't think Bakugou would steal it, of course. He had said the words only to see what kind of a reaction it would get.

"Wha – why would I _steal_ it?" Bakugou said, turning to look at him, his mouth open in surprise.

"Humans steal selkies' skins whenever they find them," Kirishima said. "It's why we avoid humans as much as we can."

"But _why_?" Bakugou said again.

"Control." Kirishima could remember having a conversation very similar to this one years ago with his mother; he'd played the pupil's role then, of course. He could almost remember what she'd told him, word for word. "A selkie will do anything to get his or her skin back. Humans like to use that to their advantage."

 _You are giving him bad ideas,_ a voice in Kirishima's head said.

 _I want him to know everything about me,_ another voice said. Everything. _Everything_.

He wished he had the words to describe what being a selkie was like, and he wished he knew for sure that Bakugou was curious about it. There was so much inside of Kirishima that he'd never told another soul that he could very well confide right now to this human, wholly and without regrets.

"Of course," Bakugou said, bringing Kirishima back to the conversation at hand. "Of course people will do shit like that. No, I won't _steal_ your _skin_. God."

The urge to touch him was getting very close to being overwhelming. Kirishima found himself staring at Bakugou, and Bakugou stared back, neither one breaking eye contact, neither moving, neither backing down.

"Ask me," Kirishima said. "Ask me anything you want."

It might have been presumptuous to assume Bakugou even had questions for him, but Kirishima felt he had to say something to break the stalemate, or his hands were going to reach out on their own accord. Bakugou blinked, surprised, and finally looked to the side, thinking. When he spoke, his voice was low and quiet, not a whisper but close. "Why me?"

Kirishima opened his mouth, then shut it with a snap of teeth. There were a thousand responses he could give, most of them wrong, many of them disastrously so, but he didn't know what the _right_ one was. "Because you're the best human I've ever met" was his first impulse, but the follow-up question would of course be "How many humans have you met?" and then Kirishima's answer would probably make Bakugou feel less special than he actually was, and that wouldn't do.

After a long moment, Kirishima finally said, "I want to tell you these things because I feel safe with you. I want to tell you _everything_ about myself." He hadn't actually meant to say that second sentence at all. It was a good thing the fire was growing dim because Kirishima could feel the blush growing on his cheeks.

He waited for Bakugou's look of mild surprise to change to a negative expression, derision or distaste, but it didn't. All Bakugou did was smile a little and say, "Sure."

"Sure?"

"Sure. Go ahead. Tell me about yourself."

Kirishima sucked in a breath and began to speak, giddy with delight.

He talked about cold spring beaches turned gray-brown with hundreds of seal-form selkies; about the joy of the hunt, the sharpness of his teeth and the taste of blood in his mouth; of the loneliness of being a selkie, the way he always wished to linger when others left and swam away. The feeling of being at sea, alone – the way the sky and the sea seemed to stretch forever until you weren't sure if land even existed anymore. The songs the whales sang to each other, distant and alien and somehow sad.

Kirishima spoke for hours, spoke until his throat felt sandy and dry and he could barely keep his eyes open. He knew he would not be done speaking until Bakugou was done listening. It wasn't until Bakugou's eyes began to droop too that Kirishima could bring himself to stop.

"You need sleep," he said, as if he himself didn't also.

"You can talk more tomorrow," Bakugou said, yawning.

Kirishima got up and found more firewood. He wanted to make a pile of it large enough to last through the night and put it next to where he slept, so whenever he awoke he could add more. When he returned from gathering with the wood piled high in his arms, Bakugou was curled up in the sand, although not asleep; his eyes glittered darkly in the dying firelight.

"You really don't mind?" Kirishima said, breathless.

"Tomorrow," Bakugou said again, his voice sticky with tiredness. " 'm gonna sleep now."

"Of course," Kirishima said, smiling and nestling into the sand. "Tomorrow."


	4. Part 1, Chapter 4

Over the next few days, Kirishima spent much of his waking time talking. He kept wondering how long it would actually take him to tell Bakugou everything about himself, but Kirishima was constantly thinking of new things to say, new stories to tell. Over the course of one day he'd told Bakugou he was a selkie and laid himself bare; suddenly nothing was too personal or too mundane to talk about. Kirishima wanted to share it all.

Well, not quite all. There was still one thing he kept unspoken: his strange, overpowering feelings for Bakugou. They were only growing stronger with time. Kirishima had never wanted another person like this. He'd craved company in general, of course, and felt the loss of his mother when they'd separated, and the few times he'd made friends with other selkies he'd missed them terribly afterwards too – but never to this extent. He couldn't remember ever wanting to touch anyone so badly, couldn't remember wondering what someone's skin felt like, how it would feel to run his hands up and down that person's body and the reaction doing so would earn him.

Kirishima was pretty sure his feelings were something best kept locked up. First of all, he had no idea if Bakugou felt the same way. He wasn't sure how to tell if he did, either; although Kirishima was getting better at reading Bakugou's immediate reactions, he was worse at guessing his feelings over time, because he had no baseline for them. He couldn't say how Bakugou normally was, because he didn't know him well enough to have any idea where "normal" lay.

Second, while it wasn't unheard of for two male or two female selkies to be mates – the other selkies wouldn't pass judgement; they were almost always live-and-let-live in this regard – Kirishima had never seen two human males together in that way. This was a tiny issue, however, compared to the fact that they were different species. Kirishima had never heard of a human and a selkie being together romantically. He'd hardly even heard of them coexisting, besides the stories he'd heard of humans finding or stealing selkies' skins and making the selkies their slaves. That was hardly a happy coexistence. Kirishima wondered if there even could be one, until he reminded himself that he was involved in one right now. That gave him a pleasant thrill; even if nothing ever happened between them besides firelit conversations and sealskin-sharing, Kirishima would know afterwards that it was possible to be a human's friend.

xxxxxx

Kirishima wasn't surprised, a few days later, when selkies appeared. With how much Bakugou was pulling the fish towards them, Kirishima had actually expected it earlier.

It was around noon, but the day was overcast and cool. Bakugou was napping near where the beach turned to grass, and Kirishima, bored, was considering whether or not to go for a pleasure-swim when he saw the two heads between the waves. Kirishima knew as soon as he noticed them that they'd spotted him first, and they were making their way up to him purposefully; a meeting could not be avoided. He waited, still in his human form, for them to reach the edge of the water.

There was a little voice inside him shouting Selkies!, but it wasn't as loud as it would have been ten days or so ago. Along with the joy of seeing his own species and potentially getting new company, Kirishima also felt his stomach coiling in fear. He hoped Bakugou wouldn't wake and come down to investigate, because the selkies would immediately be able to tell he was a human, and Kirishima wasn't sure how they'd react.

The pair only changed to their human forms when they were near the very edge of the water, the woman turning first and helping the man to his feet moments after. They were both naked besides their sealskins, which they'd slung over their shoulders in a casual, practiced way. From their physical closeness, the easy way the woman had reached out to touch the man, Kirishima guessed they were mates. They both had long, tangled dark hair and broad shoulders with short, thick limbs.

They looked him over for a moment, no one speaking. After spending so much time with Bakugou, Kirishima had forgotten how stolid other selkies tended to be, and how much of an anomaly he himself was. "Greetings," Kirishima said at last. He shifted his own sealskin onto his shoulders the same way they had.

They both nodded at him, making their way onto the sand. They sat down cross-legged next to one another, close enough that their legs touched. Kirishima sat down across from them, staring at them in the same unembarrassed, direct way they stared at him. Finally the woman spoke, breaking the silence that was beginning to feel awkward. "There are a lot of fish in this area."

Bakugou had called the fish not an hour ago. Probably the pair had simply followed their food source over. "I've noticed that too," Kirishima said, in a tone he hoped seemed casual.

The selkies both nodded. Kirishima wanted badly to glance behind him at Bakugou, but he knew that would only draw their attention to him. Don't come near, don't come near, Kirishima wanted to beg him. He was thankful the wind was blowing off the sea that day, because otherwise it might have carried the scent of human across the beach to them. Even if they did spot Bakugou, they might just think the boy was Kirishima's selkie mate, as long as he kept his distance.

"The fish are behaving very strangely this year," the man said.

"Yes," Kirishima said. "They sure are."

Did they think Kirishima had something to do with it? Were they trying to get him to explain why it was happening? Were they just remarking on it, as one might remark on the weather? Kirishima ran a hand through his hair in frustration, wishing the selkies would be a little more direct, when the woman's eyes slid from him to gaze into the distance just to the left of his head.

"We'll probably stay nearby so long as the fish are so plentiful here," she said, standing suddenly and helping the man to his feet, as she had before. "I hope that won't bother you."

"Oh, no," Kirishima said, knowing that even if he said it did bother him they probably wouldn't care. "I probably will too. You know… you want to take advantage of these things when they happen."

They both nodded once more, then turned and walked back into the sea. Once they were thigh deep they plunged into the water in their seal forms, the movement practiced and graceful. They went beneath the waves almost immediately, and didn't surface again as long as Kirishima watched.

When he turned around, Bakugou was still up near their campsite, but standing, his eyes fixed on the ocean. "Those were selkies," he said when Kirishima had reached him. They stood side by side near their campsite, both gazing out to sea.

"Yes."

"I figured, from the…" Bakugou made a gesture like he was throwing the sealskin over his shoulders. "And the whole turning into a seal thing."

"They came because of all the fish in the area," Kirishima said, sighing. "And the longer we stay here, the more selkies are going to come."

Bakugou grunted. He seemed to think about this statement for a long time, but he didn't say anything.

"Selkies can smell the difference between other selkies and humans," Kirishima went on, Bakugou's silence beginning to bother him. He realized unhappily they might have known the truth just from Bakugou's scent being on him and on his sealskin. "They'll know you're a human."

"And then what?" Bakugou said, his voice low, his eyes narrowed.

Kirishima shrugged, sighed again, barely resisting the urge to pull his hair out. "I don't know," he said. "I don't know what to do. I don't know if – if you should just stop calling the fish so often, or stop completely, or if we should go somewhere else. I don't know how other selkies will react to seeing you. I don't know anything."

"Hey," Bakugou said sharply. Kirishima turned to look at him. "What are you panicking for?"

"Huh?"

"What do you think's gonna happen?" He paused. "What's the worst that could happen?"

Kirishima considered that. "I don't know if other selkies will do anything to us. I think, at worst, they'd shun me… but it's not like I spend much time with them, anyways…"

"They won't, like, attack me?"

"Oh, no," Kirishima said, laughing in surprise at the idea. "No, no, no." He'd never heard of selkies attacking humans, with the sole exceptions of those poor people whose skins were stolen and who attacked to get them back. That was done out of pure desperation, a last resort. "No, they won't attack either of us. No. More likely they'll just ignore us completely."

Or maybe they'd flock to Bakugou once they realized his effect on the fish. Not that the selkies would spend time with him, of course, but they might stay nearby, just out of sight, since it made hunting so much simpler. They might not realize exactly what was going on, but they weren't stupid; they would realize that either Bakugou or Kirishima was the reason for the influx of fish, and take advantage of it.

Kirishima realized this could get very complicated, very fast. He also realized that Bakugou was staring at him, watching his face intently. Kirishima blushed, feeling suddenly self-conscious.

"You're worried about it," Bakugou said – a statement, not a question.

"Yes." It was no use to lie.

Bakugou's voice was low, nearly a whisper, and he looked away as he spoke. "Do you want me to leave?"

Kirishima couldn't help his physical reaction at those words; as if Bakugou had threatened to walk away right that moment, he grabbed Bakugou's hands and held them tightly. "Don't go!"

He may very well have given too much of himself away with that. Bakugou stared at him in shock, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. Kirishima dropped the boy's hands after a moment. "Don't go," he said again, trying to control his voice, although it was too late now, wasn't it? Bakugou could clearly see how desperate he was to make him stay. "If we have to go somewhere else, we can go together. There's no need for you to leave."

Bakugou narrowed his eyes and looked into Kirishima's face, studying him very carefully. It was the sort of look that made Kirishima feel like he was stripped bare, like no matter how hard he tried to hide what he was thinking, Bakugou would be able to see through it in an instant. Kirishima squirmed beneath the gaze, stepping away without meaning to.

"You want me to stay with you," Bakugou said. It was almost an exact echo of what he'd said in their first serious conversation, the one they had by firelight the day after they'd met.

"Yes."

"Why? If it's not the fish thing…" Bakugou huffed and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "You said you wanted me to stay because of the fish thing, but now you're saying I might not even be able to do it, because it's too obvious or whatever. So why do you want me to stay with you?"

Do you really need me to say it? Kirishima thought. Are you going to make me spell it out for you? There was a moment's pause: yes, it seemed like Bakugou wouldn't take his silence for an answer. Kirishima inhaled deeply and tried to compose himself before speaking, although he could feel his hands shaking.

"It isn't the fish thing," he said. "Not anymore." If it ever really was just that, he added mentally. "I like being around you. I was lonely, and I'm not lonely when I'm with you." Bakugou was still staring at him through narrowed eyes, and it made Kirishima want to keep talking just to make that skeptical look go away. "We can keep living just like this if you want – I can bring you fish instead. Or, or," he babbled on, unable to stop himself, "we can go to a village. You can talk to other humans again."

"You're serious," Bakugou said, as if, after all that, he still doubted Kirishima's sincerity.

Kirishima nodded, wondering if his pleading tone was obnoxious, whether Bakugou's next action would be to laugh.

"I don't need to talk to humans again, but I…" Bakugou scratched the back of his head, exhaled, and looked off towards the trees, away from the water. "There's something I want to…"

"What is it?"

There was a long pause before Bakugou spoke again. "I want to go back to my own village. Just to see. I know everyone's probably dead and gone, and maybe it'll be dangerous or whatever, but…"

Kirishima nodded. He should have seen this coming. He hadn't, and that made him want to kick himself. "But maybe not everyone's – gone. Maybe some people are still there."

"Yes," Bakugou said, looking at him again. "Yes."

Kirishima felt as if his heart was being gripped and twisted. He could hardly breathe from the mixture of hope and fear he felt; his pulse drummed in his ears. "Can I come with you?"

"It's not by the ocean, but there's a river nearby," Bakugou said, very quickly, as if he'd been anticipating Kirishima's question and had prepared for it. As if he'd planned this entire conversation in advance. "But on the way there I think we'll have to walk through areas that don't have any bodies of water at all. And like I said it might be dangerous. If the people who did it are still there. Or if we run into someone else."

"It's fine, it's fine," Kirishima said. He was smiling despite – because of? – the earnest tone that Bakugou's voice had taken on. "I know it could be dangerous. And I can live away from water. I can eat human food, too. It doesn't have to be fish."

Bakugou let out a surprised laugh at that, and Kirishima could actually see him relaxing. To think that Bakugou had actually been anticipating rejection seemed almost unthinkable, when Kirishima himself was so far gone on him. He could have suggested visiting the desert and Kirishima would have agreed.

"It took me seven or eight days of walking to reach here," Bakugou said. "I went as fast as I could, but it wasn't a direct route. So I don't know how far it actually is." He wrinkled his nose. "I don't know that I can actually find it again on my own… I need a map."

A map – that meant a visit to a human town. Of course, they'd need to go anyway, wouldn't they? They'd need food and clothing, new shoes (or shoes in the first place, in Kirishima's case).

"The nearest human town half a day's swim north." Kirishima didn't know how to express that in distance or walking time. "We can head out whenever you want."

"We need money," Bakugou said, his voice edged with frustration. "We could gather a bunch of fish and sell them. I guess there's probably a fish market? But that would take a long time, I can't imagine fish are worth very much, and maps and stuff are expensive…"

"Oh." Something had occurred to Kirishima, something he hadn't given thought to in years. "I can get us money. It will take a day, though. Actually…" He paused a moment, thinking, calculating. "If you start walking when you wake up tomorrow morning, I should be able to reach the town about the same time as you. You can meet me there."

"Meet you – Kirishima, how are you going to get money?" Bakugou said.

"I'll just go gather it. There is money in the ocean." Bakugou tried that pinning gaze on him again, but Kirishima was expecting it, and deflected it with a smile. "Trust me on this? I'm not sure how to explain it, but you'll know what I mean when I bring it back."

"What are you going to do, find pearls or something?" Bakugou was apparently unable to accept that as an answer.

"No, no, it's human money," Kirishima said. "Coins. On the ocean floor. In a ship."

"Ohh," Bakugou said. "A shipwreck."

Kirishima nodded, still smiling. He was glad Bakugou knew what he was talking about, glad there was a word for it. "Yes. But it will take me a long time to swim there, and it's in the direction of the town, so it makes the most sense for me to just meet you there."

"You should have just said that to begin with," Bakugou said, glaring, "instead of making me ask all these questions."

"Sorry." Kirishima grinned. Bakugou was annoyed, but not mad; in fact, Kirishima liked him like this, liked to tease him a little and know the boy would stay even if he felt a little put-out. "Does that sound okay, though?"

"Yeah, whatever," Bakugou said, and Kirishima knew that was as good an answer as he was going to get.

xxxxxx

That meant Kirishima had to leave that evening. The shipwreck was further north than the town and out to sea some distance – not a short swim, particularly for someone as out of shape as he had recently become. He hadn't visited it in many years, and although he remembered the location generally, he wasn't sure how long it would take him.

That meant his last night sleeping here in the sand with Bakugou had already passed. The thought that they'd be leaving this area made Kirishima feel oddly sad. There wasn't actually anything special here, just beach as far as the eye could see and behind it grass and trees; but it was their spot, the place they'd met, the place they'd spent their entire correspondence thus far. The only place they had existed together.

Kirishima made sure to tell Bakugou where to meet him in as much detail as possible. He didn't want to risk them getting separated; the idea send a chill of terror down his spine. No, he would wait for Bakugou as long as necessary, and he knew Bakugou would wait for him. Kirishima felt glad to be able to offer something Bakugou needed. He was a little surprised Bakugou was planning to accept the shipwreck money, but they didn't have a lot of other choices, it seemed, if they wanted to buy things in the town.

"Try not to go in the ocean," Kirishima said. Bakugou had called the fish one last time, and now they sat by the fire, watching the post-sunset sky grow dark as night fell around them. "Just so you don't attract any attention."

"I know."

"And wait for me if I'm not there! Don't leave without me. It's possible something might delay me. Weather maybe. Or if I can't find it –"

"Kirishima!" Bakugou's voice was rough, a little annoyed. "I know." A beat. "I'll wait."

"Thank you." Kirishima exhaled, trying to calm the tension that filled his body. He felt sick with nerves. There was so much that could go wrong. What if he couldn't find the shipwreck, or someone had taken all of the money that was there? What if something attacked him underwater? What if someone attacked Bakugou on land? What if the town had been destroyed just like Bakugou's village and was no longer there? What if –

"Stop it."

"Huh?"

"Stop it," Bakugou said again, nudging Kirishima with his shoulder lightly. "I can practically hear you thinking. You're worrying way too much." Kirishima wasn't sure how Bakugou himself could say that – Bakugou, who had seen the worst parts of the world, who knew better than anyone how many things could go wrong. "We'll see each other tomorrow afternoon, yeah?"

"Afternoon or maybe evening." Kirishima felt stupidly sentimental and hated himself for it. It was so un-selkie-like of him to have this much trouble saying goodbye, even when he knew he'd see Bakugou the very next day.

"I'll be there," Bakugou said, as if reading his thoughts.

Kirishima finally, finally gave in to the longing that had been plaguing him for days. He turned to face Bakugou, leaned over – it wasn't far, since they were seated side by side – and wrapped his arms around him. Kirishima's face was near Bakugou's neck, and when he inhaled he breathed air that smelled so intensely of Bakugou that he felt something warm bloom in his chest.

Kirishima kept it a short embrace. He didn't want to frighten Bakugou away; just about the worst thing to imagine would be pulling back and seeing a look of disgust or disdain there. But Bakugou's face was as soft as Kirishima had ever seen it. "You're so sentimental," he said, but his tone was strangely low and gravelly.

"I should go," Kirishima said, rising. If he didn't go now, he wasn't sure he'd be able to bring himself to leave at all. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Bakugou nodded in recognition, and without a word Kirishima stepped away, down the sand and into the sea.


	5. Part 1, Chapter 5

Kirishima swam until he grew tired, then slept adrift in the water with just his nose above the surface. When he awoke it was still dark, but the sky to the east was tinged faintly with gray, so Kirishima was able to orient himself and continue onwards.

He passed by the human town as the sun was rising and thought of how Bakugou would soon be waking and beginning his journey. Walking was slower than swimming, Kirishima knew, so it would probably take Bakugou longer to reach it than it had taken him. That was okay, though; he didn't mind waiting. It was far better than the idea of Bakugou waiting for _him_.

The ship on the seafloor was one of those things young selkies talked about amongst each other, knowledge passed between friends and siblings for who-knows-how-long. Most selkies in the area visited it, alone or in groups of two or three, because it was fascinating – a chance to see a human vessel up close without the humans, stunning in its scope and grandeur, even as rotted and retaken by the ocean as it was.

The ship had been heading towards the town, maybe, or leaving it; Kirishima didn't know if there had been a battle or a storm or just an accident. It didn't matter, because the result was the same: the ship lay broken in half on the ocean floor, its contents strewn about, scattered and musty-dark with ocean detritus.

The gold was something the selkies shared amongst themselves, too. Sometimes visitors would take a coin, tuck it in their mouth and smuggle it back to shore to show off. The selkies knew it was human money, of course, but they didn't spend it; they kept it because the coins were beautiful. They were in a chest, so they didn't collect grime the same way the rest of the ship did, and they bore designs: human heads in profile, words, birds, wreaths of leaves. Kirishima hadn't taken one himself, but he'd had the opportunity once to examine a coin on land, and he'd been loath to hand it back afterwards.

Kirishima was relieved to see the wreck still there, and the chest too. He pushed it open with his snout and discovered that while it was less full than he remembered, it definitely wasn't empty yet. He gently, gingerly took coins in his mouth one at a time, shifting each one to his cheeks and holding them like a rodent holds seeds.

He had no idea which coins were worth the most, and anyways the light was bad enough on the ocean floor that he couldn't even tell which he was putting into his mouth. He hoped it was enough, but in any event he could always swim back out and get more if needed. He felt a little guilty about taking so many – the chest certainly looked emptier after he was done with it – but it wasn't as if he'd taken them _all_. And, anyways, he was going to use them the way the humans who made them originally had intended. That had to make up for it a little, right?

It was a strange sensation to swim back with the coins in his mouth, and the whole time Kirishima had to make a conscious effort not to swallow them. Luckily the trip was uneventful, because if anything had startled him he probably would have lost them. By the time he passed by the town again, swimming south now, it was past noon, but he knew he was making good time.

He reached the meeting place before Bakugou did and spat the coins out onto the sand before transforming back into a human. Then he washed them in the seawater and carried them away to wait, looking each one over in turn to pass the time.

Bakugou finally arrived in the late afternoon, looking tired but not hurt. Kirishima spotted him first and yelled out a greeting, running to meet him at first before realizing he'd have to leave all the coins on the sand; even though it was deserted, some streak of paranoia made him not want to leave the money sitting out in the open.

"Hey," Bakugou said, as soon as they were close enough to talk. "Did you…"

Kirishima gestured at the coins as the answer to Bakugou's unfinished question. Bakugou fell to his knees in the sand, picking up the coins and turning them over, one after another. "I've never seen money like this before."

"It's old," Kirishima said, squatting next to him.

"It's – is it real gold? It is, isn't it?"

Kirishima had no idea, but Bakugou seemed to be pleased, so he felt his own chest swell with pride. "Do you think it will be enough?" he asked.

"It will be way, way more than enough," Bakugou said. There were nearly too many coins for him to hold all at once. "Did I get them all?"

Kirishima patted the sand to make sure, but Bakugou had. Bakugou turned and set off towards the town, but when Kirishima tried to follow, the boy stopped. "Kirishima, what are you doing?"

"I want to go with you," he said, embarrassed at how whiny his own voice sounded. "I want to see the town with you."

"You're naked, idiot," Bakugou said. "You'll look like some weird wild man if you go into the town like that. No one will sell us anything."

"I'll look like a selkie," Kirishima said quietly, realizing. "You're right. I can't…"

"Look." Bakugou set about half of the coins down in the sand at Kirishima's feet. "I'll go buy something for you to wear and come back, and then we can go into the town together to get the rest. Is that okay?"

"Yes!" Kirishima beamed at him. "Thank you!"

After Bakugou left, Kirishima took the money and went into the trees, positioning himself so he could keep an eye out for Bakugou but also avoid any other humans who might come this way. The closer they got to the town, he knew, the busier the beaches would be, and they were now quite close, no more than a twenty minute walk away.

The time seemed to stretch on forever. In the shadow of the trees, Kirishima felt cold even when he wrapped his sealskin around him, and the ground seemed so rough and uneven compared to the soft sand of the beach. But he was glad he'd hidden himself, because as he watched through the gaps in the trees he saw a fishing boat go by in the shallow water, headed towards the town. Kirishima was past the point of doubting Bakugou would return, but he still ached every minute he was alone.

It probably wasn't much more than an hour, but Kirishima still felt a thrill of excitement when at last he spotted Bakugou, holding a bundle in his hands. He had a new bag over his shoulder, too. Kirishima came out of the trees, grinning, dropping coins as he went.

"Here," Bakugou said, handing him the bundle. "Your clothes." As Kirishima started getting dressed, Bakugou kept talking: "They all made a big fuss about the money when I exchanged it. I was right – it was _way_ more than enough. We can keep the rest of it for now."

Kirishima listened as he got dressed, at least until he began to struggle to figure out what exactly went where and how to put it on. He had worn human clothing before. He didn't do it much, of course, but he had visited a human town before. If there was one thing that was blindingly obvious about humans, it was that they all wore clothes, all the time. Even this past week Bakugou had kept his clothes on, tattered and frayed as they were. The fact that Kirishima had been naked hadn't seemed to bother him, but he hadn't discarded that human impulse of his to clothe himself, either.

Still, Kirishima fought with the clothing, and Bakugou had to help him, had to point out to him which side was the front and tie the strings on the pants and the neck of the shirt. Kirishima felt terribly awkward; this was the first time he'd been so out of his element around Bakugou, and he knew it was only about to get worse. Still, Bakugou said nothing, didn't tease or comment on it, just frowned in concentration and, when they were all done, gave Kirishima a once-over and a curt nod.

He was nervous too, Kirishima realized. Maybe it would be better if only Bakugou went, but Kirishima felt a surge of disappointment at the idea. He wanted to see the human town, wanted to see it _with Bakugou_ – to see how the boy interacted with other humans, to hear his explanations and his reactions to the things around him.

They tucked the money into the bag, but Kirishima wasn't sure what to do with his sealskin. If he brought it with them, there was the risk of someone recognizing what it was and trying to steal it, but he wasn't sure how safe it was to leave it behind. In the end, he opted to roll it up tightly and tuck it under his arm, hoping it looked like a normal pelt to anyone who noticed it. It felt too strange to be without it; he knew if he left it behind, he'd be worrying about it the entire time.

Then they were finally ready to enter the town. "You keep calling it a town," said Bakugou as they walked towards it. "It's really more of a city, isn't it?"

"What's the difference?"

"Size," Bakugou said. "Cities are bigger."

"Oh," Kirishima said. "I have no idea. So is it a city?" Bakugou didn't answer and Kirishima felt terribly ignorant. "Then what's a village? You come from a village, right? Is it larger?"

"It's smaller than a town," Bakugou said. "Very small. We'd have to go to a nearby town to sell or buy anything, because it was too small to even have stores."

"Oh," Kirishima said again, not knowing what to say. He stuck close to Bakugou as he walked, nearly stepping on the boy's heels.

The _city_ , if that was the correct term, was as grand as Kirishima had imagined, having previously only ever seen it from the shore. The streets were laid with stones and the houses' roofs were all the same bright orange-brown shingles. The whole place was loud with peoples' voices.

"We'll get shoes first," Bakugou said, nearly running into Kirishima as he stopped to speak. "Then food and supplies. Then the map."

"Okay," Kirishima said, perfectly content to let Bakugou handle it. He was half regretting his decision already. The voices around him – children playing, vendors calling out what they were selling, groups casually conversing – made him half regret coming at all.

Bakugou must have sensed this, because he slowed to walk alongside Kirishima and spoke slowly, directly into his ear. "It won't take long," he said. "We'll stay the night in an inn, and head out tomorrow morning."

Kirishima nodded and tried to relax. He trusted Bakugou, and this was not going to be that bad.

xxxxx

Kirishima decided he hated shoes.

"You have to wear them," Bakugou said for the thousandth time. Kirishima hadn't been able to pay attention at all the entire time; when Bakugou had been filling up a second, new bag with food, he'd been fidgeting, slipping them on and off and tapping the toes on the ground, trying to get used to the feeling. "The ground isn't like the beach. If you don't wear them, you'll get hurt, idiot."

"I know. I know." And Kirishima _did_ know. That didn't mean he liked it.

"Just need the map now," Bakugou said, moving as if he knew precisely where to go. Well, presumably he could read the signs that hung above every door, so Kirishima supposed he did know. It was still impressive. "Then we'll find an inn and you can take the shoes off there."

"Can I take my shoes off inside the shop?"

"No," Bakugou said. "No. Not until – no."

Kirishima sighed dramatically, although the shoes didn't actually hurt him. They just felt bizarre, a much stranger feeling than having clothing on.

"Here," Bakugou said, steering them into a small building at the end of the street. Kirishima entered just behind him and stopped dead.

After spending the afternoon smelling nothing but humans, he was unprepared for the wave of selkie smell that hit him when he entered the store. It was small, most of the floorspace packed tight with shelves, and Kirishima could only see a single man, sitting behind a counter and reading something. He glanced up as they walked in.

"Welcome," he said, looking at them warily for a moment before, presumably, he caught a whiff of Kirishima's smell. His eyes widened.

"I need a map that shows the cities to the west," Bakugou said, completely oblivious. "I'm from a village near Broadstem, and I need to get back there."

The man's expression of surprise cleared in remarkably short time, and his face turned blank. He had long, tangled dark hair and stubble on his face. Kirishima had never seen a selkie grow a beard, but this one was trying his best. "Right. Wait here," the shopkeeper said, his voice a deep monotone. He rose from where he'd been sitting and wandered off into the back of the store. The smell went with him. There was no doubt.

After the incredulity faded, Kirishima was left feeling worried. He couldn't see the sealskin anywhere on the man… had it been stolen? Was he being forced to work in a human store? Kirishima felt himself nearly quivering with righteous indignation. Bakugou glanced at him over his shoulder, but said nothing, probably assuming Kirishima's excess energy was just from nerves.

"Here," the shopkeeper said, unrolling a scroll to show them. "Doesn't show much further west than Broadstem, but if that's all you needed it should be fine." He pointed out the roads to take while Bakugou listened and nodded along.

A selkie that could read? A selkie that worked in a _bookstore_?

Bakugou paid and was nearly out the door when Kirishima said, "Wait."

"What?"

"Wait a minute, Bakugou," Kirishima said. He hadn't moved from where he stood in the middle of the store. "I need to do something." The shopkeeper was eyeing them with what might have been amusement, although his face was half-covered by a scarf and the long fringes of his hair so it was hard to tell.

Bakugou watched, open-mouthed, as Kirishima walked up to the shopkeeper. He stopped in front of the man, who still stood, watching him. "Hello."

The shopkeeper only nodded.

"Are you…" Kirishima leaned in and lowered his voice – not to hide from Bakugou, who could still hear him, but just because it felt as if he was discussing something that shouldn't be spoken aloud. "Are you being forced to be here?"

"Your concern is… kind," the shopkeeper said slowly, after a long moment. "However, it's entirely my own choice to be here."

"Oh."

The shopkeeper's eyes flickered between Bakugou and Kirishima, eventually focusing on the sealskin Kirishima still held under his arm. "I assume it's the same for you?"

"Yeah," Kirishima said. "Yeah. My own choice." He swallowed. He wished he had the courage to ask more questions. There was a story here – maybe one like his own, maybe wholly different – that he would never be able to know. But the shopkeeper had already turned his gaze back to the book in his lap, and Bakugou was tugging at his wrist, pulling him out of the store and into the street.

"Kirishima, what the hell?" he said, as soon as they were outside.

"Bakugou!" He was thrumming with so much excitement he could hardly keep his voice low, but it wouldn't exactly be polite to shout this man's secret to the entire city. " _He's a selkie_."

"Ohhh," Bakugou said, the end of the word rising in pitch like it was a question. "You could tell that?"

"From his smell, yeah. I thought – I thought selkies never talked to humans unless the humans made them, but he said – he said he was – he said it was his own choice!"

"I heard him," Bakugou said, the corner of his mouth quirking into a smile.

"So," Kirishima went on, breathing in deeply, "I'm not the only one." He thought the only selkies in the world lived on beaches, the way he always had, but who knew how many other selkies were living in cities, their true identities unknown to the humans around them?

A strange lightness filled him, and he practically skipped as he walked behind Bakugou, the discomfort of his shoes forgotten.

xxxxx

Apparently an inn was a place where travelers rented rooms for the night. Kirishima hadn't really thought about this very much. He supposed it made sense, since humans did seem to travel a lot, and humans had houses, but obviously the houses could not travel with them, but it still seemed a novel concept. Strange that humans were so fragile they could not sleep on the sand or on the grass for a night.

"It's also because it's _dangerous_ ," Bakugou said, when Kirishima expressed this to him. "People could come up and steal your things or attack you if you did that."

That made sense, too. It was the reason selkies couldn't sleep on beaches frequented by humans. The one thing Kirishima had learned again and again in the last few weeks was that humans were just as cruel to other humans as they were to selkies.

"Someone could just walk in here and steal our things, couldn't they?" Kirishima asked. Then Bakugou showed him what a lock was, and that was fascinating, too.

The room felt terribly small – just a bed and a table with a candle, and a small, opaque window that let in a little of the dim post-sunset light. "I'm _beat_ ," Bakugou said, setting down the bag and throwing himself onto the bed. He sighed in pleasure. "It feels so good to sleep on a bed."

"What, is the sand not good enough for you?"

"Have you ever slept in a bed?"

"No," Kirishima said.

Bakugou grinned. "Then come here and tell me that's not the best thing you've ever felt."

It was soft – too soft; Kirishima almost felt like he was stuck in it, unable to get up. Bakugou laughed at the surprise on his face at the sensation. "See?"

"I don't know if I can sleep in this," Kirishima said. Sitting up took a lot more effort than it usually did.

"Then sleep on the floor. That just means more space for me."

In the end, they both settled in on the bed, and Kirishima fell asleep.

For a few hours, anyways.

He woke in the middle of the night, lay in the bed and listened to the sound of Bakugou breathing. It was dark and stuffy; the room was warm but there was no breeze, and the musty smell was close to overpowering. No selkies had stayed in this room, at least not as far as Kirishima could tell; he could only smell human, layer upon layer, hundreds of different people's scents mixing. But when he turned his head to the side and inhaled, he could smell Bakugou – familiar enough to be comforting, strong enough to overpower the older, fainter scents.

Kirishima tried for a bit to get back to sleep, but knew he'd be unable to. After a while he sighed and swung his legs over the bed. The room was so small, and he wanted to go for a walk and stretch his legs, but when he unlocked the door and peered down the hallway, the unfamiliarity and the feeling of being alone in a human building sent chills of fear up his spine. He locked the door again and stepped back, feeling restlessness like an actual weight in his chest.

Kirishima began to pace, unable to get more than three or four strides in any direction before he had to turn. The room was small and the bed took up most of it.

After a few minutes of pacing, Kirishima heard a small voice say his name.

He strode to the bed and sat back down. "Bakugou, I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

"What is it?" Bakugou sounded barely conscious. "You alright?"

"I'm fine. I'm sorry."

Bakugou sat up, only slightly visible in the darkness. "What's going on?"

"Nothing! Bakugou, go back to sleep. I'm sorry I woke you. I was just… I couldn't fall back asleep."

There was a pause, but Kirishima didn't hear Bakugou lie back down again. After a moment he added, "I need less sleep than you anyways. I should have expected this."

"Are you nervous about leaving the ocean?"

"No!" Kirishima had answered without thinking. He took a breath and spoke more slowly. "Yes, maybe. Maybe I am nervous. But that's honestly not the reason I can't sleep. I really do sleep less than you. A lot less."

"Uh-huh." Bakugou yawned. "You were pacing around like a caged animal. It woke me up."

"I know," Kirishima said. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry you're stuck in here," Bakugou said, sounding a little more awake now. "I guess you should have slept by the ocean again, and we could have met up tomorrow. So you didn't feel all cooped up or whatever."

"No!" The thought of being away from Bakugou for the entire night again was intolerable. "No, it's fine. I don't mind it that much."

"Kirishima." Something in Bakugou's tone suggested whatever he was about to say was very important.

"Yeah?"

"If you change your mind – if you decide, on the way there or when we get there, that you want to go back to the ocean, I want you to let me know, and I will make sure you get there." He paused, and Kirishima heard him swallow audibly. "I will walk you back to the ocean if I need to. I don't mind. You can… you can tell me, okay?"

"Bakugou," Kirishima said, so filled with emotion he could hardly speak. He felt gratitude and a strange warmth he couldn't express with words. The desire to touch Bakugou was stronger than ever; Kirishima was glad it was dark, because if he'd been able to see him the urge might have been overpowering.

"I don't want you to feel like you owe me for anything," Bakugou said. "I owe _you_."

"You don't!" Kirishima said, realizing Bakugou's generous offer may very well have just been because he felt obligated. "You owe me nothing. What would you owe me _for_ , anyways?"

Bakugou laughed – a soft sound that gave Kirishima shivers. "You're serious?"

"We're _even_ ," Kirishima said firmly. "Let's say we're even."

"How can we be even? After everything –"

"I need you to tell me we're even. I don't want to go with you if you think you owe me anything." He didn't want to budge on this point, and started talking over Bakugou when the boy tried to interrupt him. "I want to go with you. I want to stay with you. But I want to know you're staying with me, and being so nice to me, not out because you think you owe me but because you want to be."

There was a long pause – a minute or more. Kirishima wished to know what Bakugou was thinking about, what struggle was happening inside his head. Kirishima knew he was going to answer, though, one way or another, so he waited without saying anything.

"We're even," Bakugou said at last, his voice low.

Kirishima grinned. "I'm glad. Thank you."

"If we're _even_ , what do you need to thank me for?" Bakugou said. Kirishima thought he might have been smiling as well, but he wasn't sure, since he couldn't make out Bakugou's face.

"I'm happy," Kirishima said. "I'm nervous, but happy."

"Come on," Bakugou said, laying back down and pulling the blankets back around them both. "Go to sleep."

Kirishima didn't fall asleep for at least another hour, but his nervous energy had almost completely left him. He was content to lie next to Bakugou and listen to the gentle, even cadence of his breathing and think of the future – the unknown that rose up ahead of them like a mountain.

They would greet it together.


	6. Part 2, Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** This chapter was originally written between chapters 1 and 2. The original plan was for ch. 1 to be a oneshot and for this story to involve mainly Todoroki and Midoriya. However, after I decided to expand on Kirishima and Bakugou's story, they melded into one. From here on out there will be several different narrators, but hopefully I make it clear whose point of view it's from.

* * *

The sky was as beautiful as he had ever seen it. Beyond the ash, there was still grass growing. The wind was gentle at his back, and it brought the smell of summer - grass, trees, flowers. Midoriya inhaled deeply.

The world was the same, except it wasn't. His house was gone. His neighbors' houses were gone. The dirt roads between them still remained, but the fences were destroyed. The animals not killed immediately had all escaped. The ones killed lay rotting in the sun.

Midoriya could hear birds chirping and the sound of the wind, so he couldn't exactly say it was silent, but it was devoid of the sounds he was listening for: any sign of humanity. No sign of the livestock either. He would get no help, so there wasn't time to despair. He had work to do.

xxxxxx

He didn't think when he was dragging the bodies away. He couldn't think, because if he let himself think he would have fallen to the ground and never gotten up.

He should have been dead. It was sheer luck that had prevented it. He had been grazing his sheep a few miles from the village, and had come as fast as he could when he saw the smoke - far, far too much to be cooking fires. By that time, the ones who did this were already gone. Everyone in the village was gone as well, or dead; no one was left wounded.

When he arrived, Midoriya had still been able to hear the horsemen, the pounding of hooves and distant laughter. Blind, his mind white with rage, he'd run after them. He lost their trail within the hour, but he had kept running.

He ran after them for two days, drinking out of streams and puddles, eating nothing. On the third day, he collapsed. He could run no further.

He turned around and made his way home.

xxxxxx

Not everyone was dead. There weren't enough bodies for that. Either some people had escaped, or they were taken. There were more men's bodies than women's. Midoriya tried to keep track of them all, who was dead and who was gone, but to look at the faces of the bodies made him sick. In the end there were a few people he wasn't sure about, because he could not bear to look closely enough.

He couldn't dig a grave large enough for them all, so instead he dragged them all outside of the village, around the curve of a hill so it wouldn't be visible from where the houses stood, and built a pyre. It took days. He wanted to put it off but he knew the smell will only get worse.

Finally, finally, when he lit the pyre and the flames grew larger and larger, he walked back through the village, stinking and covered in sweat. He went to the river and walked into it. The water was colder than he expected, but the shock felt good. He stood in the middle of it; at its deepest, the water went up to his chin. It took all his force not to be pushed back by the current. He wanted to let go and let himself be taken downstream, away from the village; he wanted to let it take him all the way to the ocean, wanted to be washed out to sea.

When he turned his head, he saw the black smoke of the pyre.

 _Not everyone is dead,_ he told himself.

Midoriya made himself walk out of the river. That night, he slept in the shell of his old house, looking at the stars.

xxxxxx

There were still crops in the fields. There were still fish in the river. And on the fourth day after his return to the village, the sheep came home. Some were his, but not all. There were too many for them to all be from his flock. They grazed in the village now, where they had never been allowed to graze before. They slept in the roofless buildings, and the soot rubbed off on them and made them gray.

It was the sheep, finally, that pulled him from his haze. They were selfish in the way only animals could be, and they demanded his full attention, pushing their bodies against his legs and lipping at his fingers if they were ignored too long. The sheep were real, loud, smelly, tactile. They did not let him get lost inside his own head.

He found the house that had gotten the least burned. The roof was gone and the top of the walls were singed, but the fire must have gone out before it could do any more damage. He made a new roof, bundled thatch the way he remembered seeing it done. Light still streamed through; he patched it again and again until it was solid. It was sloppy, ugly, but it held, or at least it would for the time being. He dreaded the first heavy rain. He tried not to think about whose house it was before.

 _Not everyone is dead,_ he told himself.

Someday, they may come back. The ones taken may get free. The others who ran - there must be others who ran - will find their way back home. At least there will be someone there when they do. He could not come in time to stop the horsemen, and he could not catch them, so this was the only thing left for him to do.

xxxxxx

He talked to himself. He talked to the sheep. He talked without even realizing he was talking. He realized his life wasn't that different than it had been before; as a shepherd, he'd spent long days and nights alone, and sometimes a week or more had passed without him seeing another soul. It was only at night, when he went into the house - _his_ house, now - and cooked himself dinner, that it hit him. To sleep in a house and not have his mother in the other room - to have to do all his own cooking - to live in a house that wasn't the one he grew up in -

Weeks in, he kept thinking he was past the point where it would hit him. He _must_ have gotten used to it by now. Sometimes days did pass when he was too tired to think, or too distracted by something for it to bother him. The night of the first rainstorm, for example, he was trying to find enough containers to catch all the leaks that came through his roof; he was up half the night, soaked, and slept until noon. But it hit him the next day. It was an actual physical feeling in his chest, and it took his breath away with its intensity. He staggered out into the night and finds a sheep and thrusts his face into its wool, breathing in the scent - not good, but earthy. It grounded him. It was nice to have something warm and living to hold on to, even it bleated nervously and tried to sidle away.

 _No one's going to come back,_ he would think some nights, when things felt darkest. Or, worse: _No one survived but me._ Logically, he knew it was far too soon to give up. It has been barely a month. The people who were taken - who knew how far away they ended up? Even in the best of circumstances, they would need more time than this to find their way home.

 _I will not be alone forever_ , he told himself. _I only need to endure._

xxxxxx

Summer turned to autumn. The trees hadn't lost their leaves yet, but the sun set earlier and earlier, and the nights were growing terribly cold. His house wasn't insulated enough; he found there were still cracks in the sides of the walls where cold air could seep in, and padded them the best he could with thatch. And, for the first time, he went from house to house and found everything he could that was salvageable. There were some blankets, some extra clothing. He washed it all in the river, hung it up to dry, and slept better at night, wrapped in layers and layers.

One day, as he was coming back to the village after a full day away, he saw something between the houses that should not have been there: a horse. Midoriya knew next to nothing about horses - there never were any in his village - but he thought it was an impressive horse, a good-looking horse. It was solid black, glossy and long-maned. He got close enough to it to see its dark eyes and hear the gentle huffs of its breathing. Then he realized it was wearing a saddle and bridle.

It hit him that it was someone's horse - and not only that, there was no owner in sight, and the horse was standing patiently outside of the houses. Outside of _his house_.

The horse's owner was inside his house.

Fear rose up his back and he felt the urge to run. But he wasn't going to run anymore - he couldn't stand to. He found a stick and held it like a club, took a deep breath, opened the door to his house, and rushed inside.

The person inside let out an inelegant squawk of surprise and jumped. "Wait!" he said. It was a boy, Midoriya noted with some surprise, not even a man. Probably not much older than he himself was. "I'm not… I'll leave!"

Midoriya still held the stick, panting, the blood pounding in his veins, but the fight was draining out of him quickly. He stared at the boy, too shocked to think of anything to say. He certainly wasn't anyone Midoriya knew; his hair was strange, two different colors, and although he had a sword at his hip, he had not drawn it.

"I knocked," the stranger said, moving around Midoriya towards the door. "I waited, too. I thought it was abandoned."

"No," Midoriya said at last.

"Yeah, I see that now," the stranger said. "I'll just be going."

"No," he said again. The boy stopped. _Talk_ , Midoriya told himself. He'd spent so long having sheep as his only companions that suddenly his throat felt dammed up.

The stranger was staring at him, his gaze inscrutable. Something was off with his eyes, too, Midoriya realized. It's like he was two people, two halves. He wondered if the boy was a sorcerer, or if he was running from attackers. _Talk_ , Midoriya told himself again, and this time he listened to his own command.

"You can stay, if you need somewhere to stay." The dam was split open, and the words came freely. "It's cold at night, sometimes, but I've gathered plenty of firewood, and patched up the holes in the walls, so even after the fire goes out it stays warm for a while. I've got a lot of blankets, too, more than I can even use. Do you need a place to stay? Are you running from something?"

The boy stared.

"I'm Midoriya," Midoriya said, about to extend his hand until he realized it still held the stick. He didn't drop it, just shifted it to his left hand and held out his right. The boy shook it, still staring.

"Todoroki."

"Let's go outside," Midoriya said, leading the way. They stepped out into the late-afternoon sunlight. The boy was still staring at him as if he was mad, and maybe he was. He couldn't stop talking. "Your horse is beautiful," he said. "It took me awhile to realize it was someone's horse. That's dumb, isn't it? My first assumption was that it was wild. But it looks way too healthy to be a wild horse. Are there even wild horses? There probably aren't. I've never seen one."

Todoroki stared at him, blinking his dazzling mismatched eyes in confusion or annoyance, Midoriya couldn't tell. Midoriya took a great shuddering breath. "I'm sorry. Please don't go. I don't know what to say. I haven't talked to anyone in - in a long - since -"

Todoroki stepped around him, to the horse. He reached under its belly, crouching for a moment, then stood and hoisted the saddle off its back. He made a low grunt as he carried the saddle, setting it down in the shade beside Midoriya's house.

Midoriya dropped the stick with a clatter.

"I'll stay the night," Todoroki said, removing the horse's bridle. The animal huffed gratefully, exhaling in a way that made its lips flap. Todoroki reached a hand up to scratch behind its ears. "Glad you changed your mind about using that stick on me."

Midoriya was struck dumb for a moment. Then he realized it was a joke. Todoroki was joking. He felt relief wash over him, so suddenly he felt almost nauseous from how quickly his terror had melted away.

"Thank you," he said. He wanted to say more, but he knew that if he started, he wouldn't be able to stop.

He heard a sheep bleating somewhere beyond the village. Thankful for the distraction, he turned and ran off towards it. "Make yourself at home!" he called out over his shoulder, not daring to look back.

xxxxxx

Part of him expected the traveler to be gone when he returned. Sure, he'd _said_ he'd stay, but it wasn't like everyone always kept their word. He might have given it more thought and decided Midoriya wasn't trustworthy. Maybe he didn't want to stay with another person in the first place, and that's why he'd decided to stop at the seemingly-abandoned village. Midoriya wouldn't blame him, wouldn't be angry at him if he left. Wouldn't chase after him.

He didn't actually have anything he needed to do with the sheep, he'd just used the noise as an excuse to run away, a chance to gather his thoughts. He made his way to the river, stripped off his clothing and bathed. It was near dusk and getting a bit chilly, but Midoriya knew he stunk of sheep and sweat, and didn't want to disgust his guest.

 _His guest._ There was _another human_ nearby. Honestly, it didn't matter what kind of person was passing through: so long as it wasn't a violent one, Midoriya would have offered them shelter, food, _anything_ to make them stay. It was just his luck that it was a fancy-looking person. It didn't make him any more or less grateful for the company.

He threw on his dirty clothes again - he hadn't had the foresight to grab clean ones - and made his way back, starting to shiver.

Midoriya was startled to see smoke coming out of his chimney, and laughed aloud. The boy really had followed his suggestion to make himself at home. He stopped in front of the house, where the horse was still standing, and let it sniff his hand. It seemed friendly enough, although the sheer size of it was frightening. Moving slowly, Midoriya reached a hand up and scratched behind its ear, the way he'd seen Todoroki do. The animal leaned towards him, into the touch, and Midoriya smiled.

He entered the house, exhaling with pleasure as warmth filled him. The fire Todoroki started was going strong, filling the house with its happy orange light, and the boy himself was sitting beside it. He was gazing up at the ceiling when Midoriya entered.

"None of the other houses have roofs," Todoroki said. "You made the roof?"

"Yes. Are you hungry?"

Midoriya made them dinner - vegetarian, because he hadn't caught any fish lately, but plenty filling nonetheless. Todoroki looked all around the house as the two of them ate. It wasn't a large house, so Midoriya wasn't sure what was holding his attention.

"I'll sleep on the floor," Midoriya said. "You can have the bed. Don't worry, I have enough blankets that it will still be comfortable enough for me." Had he been in Todoroki's position, he knew he would have protested, would have insisted on taking the floor himself; but Todoroki just nodded.

Midoriya sat on the ground, scooting closer to the fire. The dishes could wait for the next day, he decided. If Todoroki was only staying one night, he would not willingly leave his presence until then. He would regret it if he did. "Tell me about yourself," Midoriya said. "I'm curious." The flicker in Todoroki's face - the hesitation, the nervousness - told him this was a bad thing to say. "Or ask me about myself," Midoriya said instead. "I'll tell you anything."

"How long has it been since you've talked to someone besides me?"

"More than a month, but less than two months," he said. "I can't be more exact than that. I'm sorry."

"How did you find this place?" Todoroki asked. "Was it chance, or did you know about it?"

Midoriya looked at him a moment, surprise making him slow to find the words. He shook his head. "No," he said. "You don't… I didn't _find_ it. I just…"

Realization dawned on Todoroki. Midoriya watched it happen, was able to see the boy's eyes go slightly wider, his forehead wrinkle in worry or pity. Saw his mouth open to say he's sorry. It shut before he spoke.

"Not everyone is dead," Midoriya said.

Todoroki only stared.

"The bodies," he said, trying to explain. "I tried not to look but the bodies. There weren't enough bodies. So not everyone is dead. Some are gone." He took a deep breath, hearing the catch of emotion in his voice. "I'm waiting for them."

"Oh," Todoroki said, and shifted away from him slightly.

Midoriya wasn't crying yet, but he could hear in his voice that it wasn't far off. "Look, I'm sorry," he said, "I'm sorry, I know you didn't expect… You wanted a house to stay in alone. I'm sorry." He clapped a hand over his mouth because if he didn't, he wouldn't be able to stop talking, and he would cry. _It's only one night_ , he thought, _who cares if a stranger sees me cry,_ but he didn't want him to, anyways.

Todoroki's face was blank, but he inhaled sharply, and it was like he'd made a decision. After a moment's pause, he leaned towards Midoriya and put his arms around him. The angle was awkward, because they were both sitting on the ground. Todoroki hugged with the stiffness of someone who didn't do it often. But the gesture itself made Midoriya's heart feel soft and sore, like a wound had been reopened. He completed the hug and pulled Todoroki against himself, felt the other boy stiffen and then relax. Midoriya held him tightly, pressing his face against Todoroki's shoulder. _Don't you dare cry on your guest,_ he told himself, and when he felt the tears coming anyway, he pulled away.

Todoroki didn't say anything. Midoriya was glad of that. Words like "It's okay", while well-meant, probably wouldn't have helped him much. Todoroki's closeness, the sound of him breathing, the sight of his eyes and skin glowing orange with firelight, the indescribably _human_ smell of him - it was all better than words.

"Thank you for dinner," Todoroki said at last, and the spell was broken.

"You're welcome." Midoriya got to his feet and divided the blankets between them. He hoped Todoroki doesn't mind that the bedding wasn't washed. It wasn't like Midoriya had known to expect guests.

"Your horse," Midoriya said, thinking of it out of the blue. "It's not tied up. Will it…"

"No, she won't run away," Todoroki said. "She's a good horse. She'll stay nearby."

Midoriya found his place on the floor. Todoroki stepped around him gingerly and lay down above him on the bed. He said nothing more, and from the sounds of his breathing, Midoriya could tell he fell asleep quickly.

Midoriya lay awake staring at the ceiling, listening to the other boy's steady breaths.

 _Only one night_ , he reminded himself. But to have another person be near him, talk to him, _hug_ him… it felt like water on the lips of someone dying of thirst.


	7. Part 2, Chapter 2

Midoriya woke up sore the next morning. His neck was stiff and his back ached. As he stretched himself out, he realized suddenly _why_ he was on the floor in the first place; he sat up with a start and looked at the bed. It was empty.

"Oh God," he said, tossing the blankets aside and jumping to his feet. "He's gone, he's…"

Midoriya tore open the door and jumped out into the chilly air of morning. It was earlier than he normally got up, and after his still-warm house it shocked him. Trying to ignore how much he was shivering, he looked around frantically.

A little distance from the village, the horse stood, silent and relaxed. It, no, _she_ looked up to eye Midoriya curiously, then lowered her head again and continued to graze. Midoriya exhaled, not even realizing until that moment that he'd been holding his breath. If the horse was still nearby, that meant Todoroki was too, somewhere.

Now that his initial burst of panic had subsided, the cold was beginning to get to him. He went back into the house and put on clothing more suitable for the chill of an autumn morning. It wasn't cold enough for him to see his breath, but it must have been close. After that, Midoriya went back outside to find Todoroki.

It hardly took any time to peek in the rest of the houses, since half of them were gaping open anyways. Todoroki wasn't in any of them, though, so Midoriya made his way to the river. On the way there he had to let the village out of his sight, so he ran, scared that the horse and her rider would leave in the few minutes Midoriya was away.

Todoroki wasn't at the river, either. Other than that, Midoriya could only think of one place he might be besides the village, and that was the pyre.

He hadn't gone back to the pyre since the day he lit it. In fact, he hadn't gone any place where it would be in his field of view at all. That meant he couldn't visit a quarter of the farms, but that was fine, it was better than the alternative.

So Midoriya went back to the village. He felt he should not go out of sight of the horse because of the ever-present risk that Todoroki might leave, so he went up to her directly, because he was still a little curious and in awe of her – the largest animal he'd seen up close. He talked to her in the same low, level voice he normally used on the sheep and told her she was a good girl, and she held his gaze; her pupils were rectangular and horizontal, foreign in the same way a sheep's pupils were. He dared to reach a hand up and pet her cheek, which was velvet-smooth when he stroked it along the grain.

A few minutes later Midoriya heard footsteps, and then Todoroki came into view from behind the hill. His face was blank, and his only greeting was a slight nod.

"You aren't gone," Midoriya said, hating himself for saying something so terribly obvious.

"No."

"You said you'd just stay one night," Midoriya said. "When do you plan to leave? Not that I want you to leave. You're welcome to stay as long as you want! I know I don't have much, but…" He was doing that thing again. He clenched his hands into fists, willing himself to stop it. "Like I said. Please feel free to stay. But only if you want to."

Todoroki looked at him for a long time. In the light of the day, Midoriya could tell that not only did he have fancy hair and eyes and a fancy horse, he also had fancy clothing; although it was dusty and worn from use, Midoriya could tell that it was high-quality stuff, with embroidery on the cuffs and collar of his shirt and boots made of leather. Suddenly Midoriya knew that his village – humble even at the best of times, and the barest of hovels now – would not be enough to keep this person nearby. He felt sadness like a weight in his chest, and swallowed, trying to push the thought away.

"Are you traveling somewhere in particular?" he asked, hoping this wasn't prying too much.

Todoroki shook his head. "I'm… no."

Again, Midoriya wondered whether he was running from someone, but the boy's reaction to his questions the night before made him not want to risk asking any more. "I know I'm poor," Midoriya began, "but I _do_ have enough for both of us. And even if you don't stay for very long, it might be nice to have company for a few days."

"You said yesterday you haven't spoken to anyone in over a month?"

"That's right."

"So people don't come by this way very often?"

"No," Midoriya said. "Only a few times a year. The last people before you were…" He gestures to the village – to the burned-out house-husks, the ruined fences he hasn't repaired.

Todoroki looked down. For a long moment neither of them spoke. Midoriya had to will himself into silence; he could have gone on and on trying to convince the other boy to stay, but in the end he would only have been repeating what he already said. He knew desperation was ugly, but he wanted this so badly he had nothing else to give.

"I'll stay," Todoroki said. "For a few days." He paused, scratched his chin, and then, as if he could read Midoriya's mind, added, "I'll let you know when I'm planning to leave."

Midoriya could have jumped for joy, but managed to restrain his reaction to just a grin. "Thank you. I'm glad," he said, as if it wasn't pitifully obvious. Now that the looming fear of Todoroki's imminent departure was gone, the pressing weight on his chest had lifted a little. At the same time, he realized the world hadn't stopped turning, that he had things to do to feed not only himself but Todoroki as well.

Todoroki disappeared for a while. There was still the possibility, of course, that he might break the promise he'd made and leave without saying goodbye, and letting him out of his sight galled Midoriya like a sliver in his thumb. Still, he had no choice but to have faith in him.. The only alternative was to follow him around constantly, and that _would_ drive him away.

Midoriya washed the bedding and hung it out to dry. He considered fishing, but in the middle of the day the river always seemed to have fewer fish; the catch was better in the early morning or at dusk. So instead he worked on the farms. He realized that it was the fields' final harvest: next year he wouldn't plant any more – he didn't know enough about farming to do much more than just pick what had already grown.

 _Their crops have outlived them_ , he thought. No, not all of them. _Not everyone is dead._

The desolation around him got to him, as it always did. Maybe it would be better to clear away the burned houses, to raze them completely and start again. Still, Midoriya felt better than he had in weeks – since before all of this had happened. Just talking to another person made him feel like things were, well, not _alright_ , but closer to alright than he'd hoped in a long time.

It was awful, in a way, that his happiness was so suddenly and thoroughly tied to another person, but he felt that this fragile and risky happiness was better than none at all.

xxxxxx

xxxxxx

Todoroki felt almost as if he was dreaming. The past few days had passed in a wild blur of riding, staying in dingy inns or sleeping outside as he tried to keep himself inconspicuous, and riding some more, backtracking and taking side routes everywhere to throw his pursuers off his scent. The continent was large, but it was still an island, and he felt as if there were only so many places he could go. But it wasn't until he reached Midoriya's village that he realized that instead of going far, he could go _deep_ – find a place so tiny, so obscure that no one would think to look for him there. A place no longer on any map.

At least, that was what he told himself, although at the same time he knew his reasons for stopping weren't entirely strategic. It was the first time he'd spent the night anywhere and not left right away the next morning, and he wasn't sure yet if staying was stupid or brilliant; he supposed he'd find out soon enough. Mostly he'd seen Midoriya looking at him, eyes wide and tear-filled as he more or less begged Todoroki to stay; his heart had withered a little at the thought of refusing that sort of pleading request. He was weak.

Well, whatever. It would work out, or it wouldn't. Todoroki was weary and almost past caring. The days of travel had been hard, and he'd nearly been claimed by nihilistic thoughts at the end: _If this is my life now, I'm_ _not sure it's worth it anymore_. He had kept going only because he had no idea what else to do.

So to suddenly halt that nightmare of strangers and constant travel and sleepless nights, to be thrown into a quiet, lonely world of fields and sheep and burned-out buildings… it was surreal, to say the least. After his first night staying in the village, Todoroki woke early, barely after dawn, and crept outside, careful not to wake the boy still asleep on the floor. The air was perfectly still, quiet save for birdsong. The sunrise was pink and gold. Todoroki decided to wander around the village. To simply stroll around, not needing to hurry away, was a breathtaking change of pace.

There wasn't much to see. All of the houses except for the one Midoriya had fixed up were roofless and charred, stripped bare of most possessions. Beyond the end of the village was the river, or maybe it was just a large stream. Todoroki filled his canteen and drank. It was so cold it took his breath away.

There wasn't much to see at that end besides the river, so Todoroki made his way to the other end of the village. This side, the east side, was buttressed by a hill, oddly steep compared to the other hills in the area but with a flattish top; Todoroki thought it might make a good lookout point, if he needed one. When he rounded it, he stopped and stared.

At first it just looked like a massive fire had swept through. Maybe there had once been another building that had burned to the ground, more thoroughly than the rest of the village. But as Todoroki stepped closer, he noticed bones among the ashes. It was a funeral pyre.

He tried not to think too hard of how that pyre had gotten built – Midoriya, slaving away in the summer sun, always so, so alone.

Todoroki decided it was strategically sound to stay in the village a little longer.

xxxxxx

Midoriya did his own thing during the days, and Todoroki did his, which mainly consisted of lying around, or riding his horse in circles, or finding some secluded place and practicing his magic on a very, very small scale. He offered to help Midoriya harvest crops or whatever it was he did, and the boy, maybe sensing how half-hearted the offer was, rejected it, much to Todoroki's relief. For the first time he could remember, he could be lazy, he could lounge around, he could waste days. It felt _grand._

This lasted for three days. Midoriya no longer asked if he planned on leaving the next day. He promised he would say when he was going to. Todoroki himself didn't know.

The fourth day started off just the same as the others had. Todoroki was enjoying his solitude, and decided to hike to the top of the hill between the village and the pyre. It was a short hike, but steep; the grass was long and he kept losing his footing. At the top, though, the view was worth it. After gazing into the distance for a while, he felt pleasantly drowsy, and let himself curl up in the tall grass and take a nap, as if he were a cat.

He awoke to voices. Not Midoriya; the boy did talk to himself sometimes, but this was not him. There were two voices, both male, coming from the direction of the pyre. Todoroki shimmied forward on his belly, trying to make as little noise as possible. He was afraid to peer out, though, in case they might look up and see his head, poking through the grass, so he lay flat and listened.

"Are you sure?" one voice was saying. "Take your time."

"Yes, I'm sure. Do you know what this means?" A pause. "This means someone's still alive."

"It could have been the attackers. It might not be safe."

"You don't have to come with me, but I'm going to look. I need to know."

They lapsed into silence and Todoroki heard footsteps heading around the hill, towards the village. He finally dared to look out. There were two men there, just as he'd thought – or maybe they were just boys; their voices were deep, but they didn't look like they were quite adults yet, to judge by their builds. Todoroki didn't see a horse, so they weren't his father's lackeys, not that he'd expected them to be after that conversation.

They were almost certainly others from the village who'd escaped. Todoroki was surprised; part of him had assumed Midoriya was delusional and that he really was the only survivor. Todoroki no longer felt afraid of the travelers, but still hid himself, not wanting them to think he was one of the village's attackers.

After a pause, the voices exclaimed, almost in unison: "A horse!"

"What the hell?" one of them added a moment later. "That's… we've never had any of those around here."

"Did the attackers have horses?"

"I don't know."

"Do you think they're still around?"

"I don't know!" The voice's owner sounded like he was close to losing his cool. "I don't know any more than you do. Like I said, you can go if you want. I can come get you when I know it's safe."

Their voices faded as they kept walking, and only when they were out of earshot did Todoroki climb down the hill and follow them. He wanted to find Midoriya, preferably before they did; the travelers were so jumpy, Todoroki found himself worrying they'd attack him by accident if he caught them by surprise, the way Midoriya had almost done to him.

Todoroki was able to sneak away from the travelers while they were still scoping out the village – walking towards Midoriya's patched-up home, he noted with some dismay – and run off to the fields, where he knew the other boy was. Todoroki was breathless when he finally reached him.

"Todoroki?" Midoriya said, hurrying towards him and wiping sweat from his brow. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's – wrong –" He was panting. _God, I'm out of shape._ "Just… people arrived. You might know them. They maybe…"

Midoriya had gotten the gist of what he was trying to say and was already striding towards the village. Todoroki followed behind, still panting, Midoriya's obvious excitement making his own heart beat faster with anticipation.

They reached the village just as the travelers rounded a corner; suddenly the four of them were face to face. Midoriya's mouth fell open.

"Bakugou?"

" _Deku_?" one of the travelers said. He had hair so pale it was lighter than his skin, which was sunburned, peeling, and freckled in turn. After a beat he turned his head to look at Todoroki, who nearly jumped out of his skin with the intensity of his gaze. "Who the hell are you?"

"I'm just a traveler," he said. "Todoroki."

The other traveler stuck out his hand in greeting, and Todoroki shook it. "Kirishima," he said, smiling and offering his hand to Midoriya to shake as well. He had wild red hair and, Todoroki noted with some confusion, oddly sharp teeth. His smile was infectious, though, and Todoroki felt himself relax a little, when all of a sudden the boy leaned in and whispered, "So, what _are_ you?"

The question was too quiet for the others to hear it, because Midoriya and Bakugou were _both_ talking again, Midoriya beginning to cry and Bakugou half-shouting to speak over him.

"…thought I was the only one, thought you were dead – no one else has come back yet – I'm so glad you're here –"

"Who _is_ he?" Bakugou was saying. "Is he one of them? Why is he here? Don't you think it's a little suspicious for him to just be a traveler?" He kicked the ground, and a cloud of dust rose up and coated his shoe. "It's just you here? No one else – no one else –?" He was shaking, taking great heaving breaths that Todoroki could hear. Everyone was staring at him, waiting for him to speak again. Todoroki caught Kirishima's eye and felt a surge of kinship for him – another outsider, caught up in something he didn't fully understand.

"Not everyone is dead," Midoriya said quietly, after they realized Bakugou was done speaking. "There weren't enough bodies."

"Then who isn't dead?" Bakugou said. Again, louder: "Deku! _Who isn't dead_?"

Todoroki couldn't remember feeling more awkward in his life. He was caught between wanting to step in and reassure Midoriya, who was beginning to cry a second time, and watching, not wanting Bakugou's wrath focused on him. He decided to stay quiet and let the scene play itself out; there was too much he didn't understand still.

"I don't know," Midoriya said, his voice thick with emotion. "I don't know. I'm sorry. I tried not to look or anything. I didn't want to look too hard."

"Bakugou," Kirishima said. "Will you show me the river?"

They all turned to look at him, surprised into silence by the unexpectedness of his comment. But after a moment, Bakugou nodded, and the two made their way through the village, west toward the river.

"That's Bakugou," Midoriya said, a little unnecessarily, once they were out of earshot. "He was a shepherd like I was."

"You didn't get along…?"

"Oh, we were friends." Midoriya laughed, shrugged. "Well, that was a long time ago."

"I'm glad you aren't the only one, who, you know," Todoroki said, afraid to finish the sentence.

"Oh, yeah," Midoriya said, finally turning to meet his eyes for the first time since they'd spoken with the travelers. "Me too."

xxxxxx

Bakugou and Kirishima were gone a long time. Midoriya hurried about, preparing dinner for four, and this time he actually took up Todoroki's offer to help. Todoroki found himself clumsily chopping vegetables while listening to Midoriya talk about Bakugou. Most of their "friendship," if it could be called that, seemed to have been Bakugou teasing, terrorizing or ignoring Midoriya, while the latter tried in vain to get on his good side. _Of all the people who could have come back,_ Todoroki thought, _it had to be the one who was awful to him, didn't it?_

"I'm glad he's alive, though," Midoriya kept saying, like he was trying to convince himself. "It's so good to see him again."

And he would shoot Todoroki a tired, teary smile, and Todoroki wondered why he was bothering to put on this façade at all. Why lie? Why not just say, "I'm glad I'm not alone any more, but I wish it had been someone else?"

It wasn't until Todoroki was done helping in the kitchen that he could spare any thought for the _other_ traveler. His friendly smile, his easygoing tone and open body language, had made his words that much more alarming. _So… what are you?_

What did _that_ mean? Todoroki wasn't sure whether to be offended or just confused. If it had been _who_ are you, he would have understood; sometimes people saw the horse and the fancy clothes and assumed he was a prince or other nobility. Maybe that was what he'd meant? _What are you – are you a prince?_

No, Todoroki mused, that didn't really seem to make sense. It was almost like Kirishima had been questioning his species. Was it his eyes? Maybe the hair? He got strange comments about it sometimes, but he'd never gotten one like _that_ before.

"Will you go and tell them that dinner is ready?" Midoriya said, startling him out of his train of thought.

Todoroki nodded and forced himself to focus on the task at hand. He tended to fall into the trap of overthinking things; at this point, there was no use lingering on Kirishima's words until he had more data to analyze.

When Todoroki reached the river, the sun was low in the sky, but not yet set. It made it hard to see at first, but after a moment he could make out Bakugou sitting along the edge of the water. Todoroki didn't see Kirishima, but he noticed the boy's clothing on the bank. Swimming, then.

Todoroki got closer. He could see a body under the water, but the shape and color were all wrong. It almost looked like a huge fish, the way it moved. He stepped closer until he was right on the edge of the water and peered in.

Bakugou noticed him at last and let out a grunt of surprise. "Get out of here!" His voice was almost a shout. "Give us some privacy!"

Todoroki ignored him and knelt down beside the river, looking in. The creature looped around and came back, sticking its face above the water for the first time and looking into Todoroki's eyes.

It was a seal, slick with water, black eyes glittering gold in the sunset. Without a doubt, it was a seal. In a river. Todoroki couldn't do anything but stare.

Then suddenly, it was Kirishima.

He laughed and sputtered the water out of his mouth. "Cold!" he said, grabbing Bakugou's proffered arm to haul himself up onto the riverbank. He had something broad and dark in his arms – a pelt? – but was otherwise naked.

"I should have kept an eye out," Bakugou said, shooting Todoroki a glare, like it was _his_ fault for stumbling onto this. Whatever "this" was. "I didn't even hear him coming."

"It's fine!" Kirishima grinned again. "Todoroki, I'm a selkie."

"Idiot! Are you just going to tell _everyone_?"

"I trust him," Kirishima said, shooting Todoroki a look that was confusingly conspiratorial.

"Don't be so trusting! You don't even know him!"

Selkie. Selkie. Todoroki wracked his brain, trying to think of what he knew about them. Obviously they could turn into seals, right? Was it just another term for shapeshifter? No – he made out the thing in Kirishima's hands, a sealskin, and remembered. Not general shapeshifters – could only change between human and seal. Lived by the ocean. Kept to themselves. Half wild, no cities, no writing, no magic. Needed the sealskin for some reason.

"Do you drown swimmers?" he asked. Kirishima gave him a look of blank shock, and Todoroki shook his head in apology. "No, sorry – that's mermaids."

"We're _peaceful_ ," Kirishima said in a tone of mock-wounded-pride. "We avoid humans." He laughed. "Mostly."

"I was supposed to tell you it's dinnertime," Todoroki said, finally remembering what had brought him there in the first place.

"Oh! You made us dinner!"

"It was mostly Midoriya, but yes."

Todoroki made his way, followed by the others. As he listened to Bakugou lecturing Kirishima – something about not being too trusting of strangers – he couldn't help thinking: _This is going to be an awkward meal, isn't it?_


	8. Part 2, Chapter 3

The meal wasn't as awkward as Todoroki had feared, mostly because Bakugou kept silent, shooting glares at both Midoriya and Todoroki. Kirishima, seemingly oblivious, asked Midoriya question after question – about the food, the house, the sheep, the crops. He kept the conversation light, and whenever an uncomfortable silence fell over them and threatened the mood, he'd come up with another question and distract them.

 _He has tact_ , Todoroki thought in surprise. Kirishima wasn't just asking things thoughtlessly; he was specifically staying away from anything that might remind them about the attack on their village, or the tension that was blooming between Midoriya, Todoroki and Bakugou.

Todoroki wasn't sure whether it was safe to bring up Kirishima's selkie-ness or if Bakugou would kill him for doing so, so he just kept his mouth shut, letting Midoriya and Kirishima handle the conversation. With Bakugou silent too, the atmosphere was almost comfortable, and Midoriya seemed happier than Todoroki had seen him yet.

After dinner, Midoriya threw another log onto the fire and then stood up straight, a look of shock on his face. "I don't know where you two will sleep," he said, running a hand through his hair.

"The floor. Outside. Doesn't matter," Kirishima said, stretching out his legs. He had the sealskin draped across his thighs. "Cold doesn't bother me. I'll find room somewhere."

"Are you sure?" Midoriya said. "No, argh, I wish there were enough beds for you all…"

"We can just sleep on the floor," Bakugou said gruffly. "'s not a big deal."

"We'll find something tomorrow," Midoriya said, sitting back down with a thump. "It's only temporary."

What that meant was: _Please don't leave tomorrow because you were uncomfortable._ He'd only been with him for four days, but Todoroki knew Midoriya well enough to understand that. Everything he did screamed _Don't leave me_ , from his insistence on doing all of the chores himself to the way he would offer his own bed to a traveler he barely knew.

He tried, from the time dinner ended until the time they were ready for bed, to get Kirishima alone, but Bakugou was always at his side, always giving Todoroki dirty looks whenever he got close. Finally Todoroki knew his hints and subtle posturing were not going to work, and he tapped Kirishima on the shoulder, pointedly ignoring Bakugou's glare.

"Yes?" Kirishima said, smiling.

"Can I talk to you? Alone?"

"No, you _cannot_ , who the hell do you think you are?"

That had been Bakugou, of course. Kirishima himself nodded and handed something off to Bakugou – the sealskin. "We can go outside," he said. "I'm sure it will be quick."

"Kirishima –"

"Bakugou," he said in reply, and something in his tone shut Bakugou up immediately.

The night was cold, but Kirishima didn't shiver, even though his arms were bare and his clothing was light. "Everything is so hectic," he said, although Todoroki wasn't sure if that was a sort of apology or just an observation.

"Yeah." Todoroki shifted from foot to foot, uncomfortable and unsure of how to begin this conversation. "Look, what you said earlier…"

"Oh! I'm sorry," Kirishima said, speaking quickly. "I wasn't even thinking. I shouldn't have said that out loud. Please don't be mad at me."

Todoroki found himself more puzzled than ever. "But what did you _mean_?"

"Look, it's fine if you don't want to tell me. I'm just really curious," Kirishima went on. He laughed nervously. "I've never… I have no idea _what_ you are. That's why I asked. Sorry, I –"

"Kirishima!" Todoroki tried to mimic the authoritative tone Kirishima himself had taken with Bakugou, but only ended up sounding petulant. "Slow down. I honestly have no idea what you're talking about. What do you mean, you have no idea what I am?"

"Oh. Uhhh." Kirishima shut his jaw with a snap. Suddenly they were _both_ struggling for words.

"What made you ask that question in the first place?"

"Your smell," Kirishima said, without hesitation. "Humans smell different from selkies, and you smell different from either. But… human also. Part human?" He met Todoroki's eyes, seeming both skeptical and curious. "You honestly don't know what you are?"

He was being perfectly serious, and that was what filled Todoroki with trepidation. If it had been Bakugou, Todoroki might have just assumed he was messing around, but Kirishima seemed to completely believe what he was saying. "May I?" he asked. Todoroki nodded before he realized what Kirishima was even asking, and a second later he was being _smelled_ – Kirishima had his face right up to his neck and was inhaling deeply. Then he stepped away, his expression puzzled.

"I don't know," he said with a sigh. "Mostly human. But something else unfamiliar too."

"I thought I was _completely_ human," Todoroki said, shaking his head. He knew this probably should bother him, but maybe the oddness of it hadn't sunken in yet, because it didn't.

The others were probably expecting them inside, but Todoroki found himself enjoying Kirishima's company. Something about his presence made Todoroki feel more at ease than either Midoriya's or (especially) Bakugou's. Maybe it was the lack of baggage he seemed to carry. Todoroki didn't know his story, of course, but (at least to judge from his demeanor) the hardships he'd faced probably weren't as painful and fresh as Midoriya and Bakugou's.

"It was rude of me to bring it up," Kirishima said, stepping towards the door. "I promise I won't mention it again unless you bring it up first."

"I don't mind if you bring it up. Tell me when you figure out what I am," Todoroki said. He could have laughed with the ridiculousness of the statement. How strange his life had become in the last several days.

"Sure!" Kirishima said, and stepped, grinning, back into the house.

xxxxxx

xxxxxx

That night, Kirishima could hardly breathe from the excitement of it all. The worst part of it was that he had to be quiet so as not to disturb the others, who were trying to sleep. The house was too small; there were four people now living in this tiny, tiny place, and it was stuffy and terribly over-full. Kirishima wanted desperately to talk to Bakugou, but they'd had a long day and he was already settling in to sleep. That was probably for the best, since Kirishima wasn't sure he'd be able to stay quiet enough if he got started talking anyways.

He waited until the others all seemed to be asleep before he rose and stepped outside. He was rather used to this after-dark solitude by now, since he definitely needed less sleep than Bakugou did. Nights were the only time he wanted to be alone, because Bakugou sleeping wasn't nearly as interesting as Bakugou awake.

It was dark, but Kirishima could see the outlines of the ruined buildings. They rose jagged and misshapen into the sky like broken teeth, black against the stars. It was Bakugou's home, and Kirishima felt glad to be seeing it, but it was broken and destroyed; he would never know it as Bakugou had.

He was startled out of his thoughts a second later when the door behind him creaked open. It was – well, to be honest, Kirishima wasn't sure what the boy's name was. He had called himself Midoriya, but Bakugou had called him Deku. In any event, he was the one who'd lived in the village with Bakugou before this, the one who had grown up with him.

The idea of someone else knowing things about Bakugou that Kirishima himself did not know gave him a strange feeling; he paused, unable to give it a name. He wanted to know everything, and couldn't, and other people knew things he would never know, and that made him feel –

"Hello, Kirishima," the boy said. "Am I disturbing you?"

"No," he said, trying to push all of those strange thoughts far, far away. There was a time to ponder, and this was not it. "But I have a question."

"Yes?"

"Your name – is it Midoriya, or…?"

"Oh!" Kirishima wished he could see his face; he was only now getting decent at reading human emotions, but it was much harder to do blind like this. "Yes, it's Midoriya. 'Deku' is just a nickname that Bakugou made up for me when we were children. No one else calls me that."

That stirred something strange in Kirishima too – the idea that they were so close they had special nicknames for each other, nicknames _only they could use_. "I don't think he ever talked about you to me," Kirishima said, realizing it was probably the pettiest thing he had ever said in his life. After a moment, regretting what he'd said, he added, "He didn't talk much about anyone from his village. Because."

Kirishima didn't finish the sentence, thanks to the great wave of self-loathing that filled him. The word for the thing he was feeling was jealousy, and he was jealous, honestly _jealous_ , of someone who had lost literally everyone he knew in a single day. It was disgusting beyond words. What was wrong with him?

Midoriya, for his part, did not seem to notice any of this, or at least his tone did not seem bothered. "How did you two meet?"

"After, you know. Uh, well." _What a great start_ , Kirishima thought. "After _that_ happened, he ran away. He ran east, to the coast. He ran until he reached the ocean."

"Wow," Midoriya said, and Kirishima heard his surprised exhale. "That's a long way. I've never been to the ocean."

"That's where he met me. We lived by the ocean for a little while, then he decided he wanted to go home and see if anyone was here. And here we are."

"You lived by the ocean?" Midoriya said. "What was that like?"

Oh, he was tempted, sorely tempted, to start talking about his life, but Kirishima held himself in check. _This isn't Bakugou_ , he reminded himself. He had no idea if Midoriya would be as interested in what he had to say.

"Lonely," Kirishima said simply, after a pause. "Quiet." Then he laughed, realizing something: Midoriya didn't know he was a selkie. Todoroki had stumbled onto him accidentally, but he probably hadn't mentioned anything to Midoriya. What Bakugou had told him about not trusting strangers obviously did not apply to him, him not being a stranger to Bakugou and all. "Midoriya, do you know what a selkie is?"

"Ummm… Hmm. No, I don't think so."

Kirishima thought back to how he'd explained it to Bakugou, and tried to phrase it in a way that made it clearer. "I have this thing, a sealskin, and when I have it on me, I can transform into a seal. I'm still _me_ , I still think like I do now, I just have the body of a seal. Selkies have a human form and a seal form, see, and we can go between them both as long as we have our sealskin, but if we lose it when we are in our human form, we are stuck there."

"And you're –!" Kirishima did not need much light to tell that Midoriya was excited, practically quivering with surprised pleasure. "That's amazing! Could you tell me more? What does it feel like to transform? Is there a limit to how long you can stay in one form or another? Can you show me sometime? Which form do you prefer? Do selkies live amongst humans, or separate? What is your society like? Does Bakugou know? Do you know any other humans? Oh, Kirishima," he said, his voice bubbly with joy, "I'm so glad you told me this! I hope you don't mind me asking so many questions!"

Kirishima's fears that Midoriya would be uninterested in hearing about his life dissolved instantly. The depth of his interest took Kirishima entirely by surprise, made him laugh a little with nervousness and take a step back. "I don't mind," he said, unable to remember most of the string of questions, "but I can't show you right now, sorry." His sealskin was currently wrapped around a sleeping Bakugou. "I will tomorrow, though, if you want!"

" _If_ I want," Midoriya echoed, incredulous. "Of course I do. I'm so glad you told me."

"You should sleep, though," Kirishima said, forgetting for a moment that he was not, in fact, speaking with Bakugou, but with a human he barely knew – one that might take more offense to being ordered around.

Luckily Midoriya didn't seem to take it personally. "You're right, it's late. I just heard the door close when you went out, and wanted to make sure you were okay. Aren't you tired from traveling?"

"A little," Kirishima admitted, "but selkies need less sleep than humans, I think."

"Oh," Midoriya said. "That's interesting! I wouldn't have guessed!"

"Are there any other, uh, creatures around here? Like selkies, you know. But not selkies." Kirishima wanted to know out of curiosity, but also to try and get a grasp of what Todoroki might be. Whatever that smell on him had been, it hadn't been familiar to Kirishima.

"Any intelligent non-human creatures, you mean?" Midoriya said. "No. I mean, you know, there's rumors and everything. There seem to be werewolf sightings every few years, but they are always just normal wolves. In terms of that sort of thing, this place isn't very interesting." He said that as if he wished there _were_ werewolves running around. "That's why it's so exciting, that you're here."

"Oh, by the way," Kirishima said, "Bakugou does know. Todoroki too." It would be nice, Kirishima knew, to have it out in the open. Keeping anything a secret always made him feel awful. "When you had him fetch us for dinner, he stumbled on me swimming. So you can talk about it in front of them, if you want."

"Oh! That's good to know!" Midoriya did not seem at all put out that he was the last to know. "Thank you!"

"Of course."

It was almost like Midoriya did not want to go back inside, but after a strange awkward pause he said "Goodnight," and stepped back into the house. As soon as he was gone, Kirishima let out a slow exhale.

He still wasn't used to humans, and Midoriya was an incredibly _human_ human, the energy just pouring off him in waves. It wasn't unpleasant, but it was jarring, almost shocking, after so long with only Bakugou to keep him company. Wishing he could go for a swim, Kirishima instead walked from house to house, memorizing the layout of the village and trying to picture it as it must have been before. Only when he was nearly too tired to keep his eyes open did he go back inside, settle in on the floor next to Bakugou, and go to sleep.

xxxxxx

Kirishima was the first one to wake the next morning. The room was chilly, though not cold enough to bother him, and utterly silent. He'd realized on the journey there that he missed the sound of the ocean; it was never too quiet there, with the steady cadence of the breaking waves always at the back of one's mind.

It took him a moment to realize that, probably as a result of the cold morning air, Bakugou's body was lying close to his. Very close – if Kirishima were to try and extricate himself, he would undoubtedly wake the other boy up. He closed his eyes, suddenly very warm, and took in the sensations.

During their journey to the village, Bakugou had been disappointingly distant. It had been great to be with him, of course – Kirishima wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere but with him – but there had been a different atmosphere between them while journeying than there had been on the beach. They hadn't talked as much or slept as close together, and the sheer amount they traveled every day meant Bakugou slept early and woke late. Despite spending every waking moment with him, Kirishima found himself wishing they were closer, although knowing that their journey would not last forever helped.

So this… this was nice. To be able to stay under the covers and relax next to Bakugou, to feel his body so close to Kirishima's own – their skin would be touching now if not for the clothing they both wore – and breathe in his scent and feel at peace, it all felt like a reward he didn't deserve. Kirishima wanted to rub a hand through that sleep-ruffled blonde hair, press his face to the skin of Bakugou's neck and inhale. If they'd been back at the beach he might have tried it, but with two near-strangers so close, he didn't dare. He knew Bakugou well enough to predict his reaction would be negative.

The day before, Bakugou hadn't been happy. Kirishima thought back to how he'd reacted when they'd reached the town. Disappointed that there was only one person left, disappointed that Midoriya didn't know who had died and who had lived. He'd expressed this with anger; the Bakugou Kirishima had seen yesterday was one he hadn't met before. While living on the beach, Kirishima had avoided topics that might bring out that side of him, but he knew he'd have to see Bakugou in pain and grieving sooner or later.

The truth was simply that Kirishima had never experienced grief the way Bakugou and Midoriya were experiencing now. He could not begin to touch it. It scared him, seeing this sadness and not knowing what to do, not knowing what was the right or wrong thing to say. His best choice, as far as he could tell, was caution; wait and see how Bakugou reacted. There was nothing else to do.

Kirishima tried to pull away from Bakugou without waking him, but the boy groaned and opened his eyes, then seemed to tense when he realized their physical closeness. He slid himself almost imperceptibly away from Kirishima, although he did not sit up or move away completely.

"They're still asleep," Kirishima said, tilting his head to indicate the others.

Bakugou nodded, yawned.

"How did you sleep?"

"Mm." Bakugou seemed to be not quite fully conscious. "Fine."

 _How long are we going to stay here?_ Kirishima wanted to ask. Bakugou was not awake enough to give a coherent answer, though, if he even knew at this point. They were wanderers now, and had no place they needed to be, so they could stay or go at any time. Kirishima still would follow Bakugou where he wanted to go. But he found himself hoping they'd stay, at least for a little while. He didn't especially like or dislike either of the other boys, but he did want to get to know them better in much the same way he'd felt about Bakugou just a few weeks ago. Humans as individuals were intriguing, and not nearly as frightening as humans in groups.

Not to mention the mystery of Todoroki – that unfamiliar, fascinating scent that Kirishima had caught on him the day before. Midoriya smelled human the same way Bakugou did, but Todoroki's humanness was mixed, transformed into something else… Kirishima wondered if smelling him like that had been out of line, though Todoroki hadn't seemed offended.

Humans were _exciting_.

Bakugou was staring at him, Kirishima realized. He shot the boy a grin.

"Weirdo," Bakugou said, but the softness in his voice made it almost a term of endearment.


	9. Part 2, Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** After this chapter, I'll probably be updating weekly (rather than more frequently and without schedule).

I love to talk about writing, so please feel free to reach out to me! Thank you to everyone who reads this!

* * *

Todoroki wondered that morning whether it was time for him to move on.

He kept the thought to himself. It wouldn't do to leave impetuously: there might be no coming back. It wasn't that he disliked staying in the village, because he didn't. He had so far enjoyed it quite a lot, this freedom and quiet like he'd never known. The fear of pursuit was still there, but it was dampened, a distant fear that troubled him only sometimes.

No, he wondered if he should move on because Midoriya was no longer alone. That was why Midoriya had begged him to stay, of course. The solitude he'd had was the type no one should have to endure, and Todoroki knew his own company was better than that. But Midoriya was no longer alone. Was Todoroki's presence still a comfort, or was it now more of a burden?

Midoriya was unfailingly polite: he prepared all the meals and offered his bed to Todoroki without complaint, slept on the floor and pretended it didn't bother him. If Midoriya wanted him gone, Todoroki would never know, thanks to that sheer, overwhelming politeness.

On the morning after Kirishima and Bakugou arrived, he decided to keep a particular eye on Midoriya, trying to ascertain how he really felt. _If I get the feeling he really doesn't want me here, I'll leave,_ Todoroki told himself. His own feelings didn't matter as much. If he was a burden, it was important to know when to move on.

…Except the thought of leaving Kirishima behind and never finding out what in the world he'd been talking about sounded awful, too. Todoroki added on another part to his mental note: he would allow himself to stay at least until Kirishima figured out what he was (provided it was still safe in the village and Midoriya wasn't directly asking him to get out).

There was an annoying voice in the back of Todoroki's head that told him he was making excuses to stay, but, at least for now, the voice was small enough to ignore.

xxxxxx

Midoriya had been the last one to wake that morning, but as soon as he did, he scrambled to his feet and started on breakfast. He seemed tired, Todoroki thought, but his smile never left his face.

As they were eating together, Kirishima suddenly smiled out of the blue and announced, "I thought today I would give a demonstration." He shot them all a playful look and paused, apparently waiting for someone to prompt him to explain.

"What are you talking about?" Bakugou said, sounding irritated.

If his lack of enthusiasm fazed Kirishima, the boy didn't let it show. "I told Midoriya I would transform for him today." To Todoroki he added: "You can watch too, if you want."

Bakugou's face changed from sleepy annoyance to something downright venomous. "You told Deku you were a selkie? Why did you tell him?"

Now at last Kirishima seemed surprised by Bakugou's unenthusiastic reaction to the idea. "You _know_ him, Bakugou," he said. "You grew up with him! Why shouldn't I trust him?"

Bakugou sighed and fidgeted in his seat, his gaze sliding from Midoriya to Todoroki and back again. "Never mind."

Todoroki could tell there was something Bakugou wanted to say to Kirishima alone. Kirishima himself, though, seemed oblivious. He shot Bakugou one more confused look before turning back to the others.

"Anyways, I can show you this morning, or whatever time works best for you."

"Anytime," Midoriya said. "Whenever you want."

"Now?" Kirishima said, smiling and getting to his feet.

Todoroki followed them outside. Bakugou did too, wrapping his arms across his chest like he was cold. When there were only two people in the village, everything had felt so empty and abandoned, but now, with four, it seemed so much livelier and louder. And more tense.

When they got to the riverbank, Kirishima stripped his clothes off, tossing them haphazardly onto the grass, until the sealskin was the only garment on his body, worn over his shoulders like a cape. He hadn't worn any shoes, Todoroki noticed. He knelt down, seemingly unbothered by the cold, and – more quickly than Todoroki's eye could trace – he became a seal. It surprised Todoroki to see, even though he'd known what would happen: the speed and fluidity of it took his breath away. Suddenly ungainly on land, Kirishima gave a few hops and tumbled into the river, where he began to swim.

"Wow!" Midoriya said, dropping to his knees to peer closely into the water. "It was so fast! The transformation seems to happen all at once…" He muttered a stream of sentences about Kirishima, speaking so fast Todoroki couldn't follow all the words. His eyes, huge and green, followed Kirishima as he swam in lazy circles, back and forth so he always stayed within view of them. Todoroki thought the selkie's transformation had been interesting, but the _really_ entrancing thing was Midoriya's reaction to it: his obvious fascination, how he seemed to forget there was anything in the world besides himself and Kirishima.

Bakugou noticed, too. He watched Midoriya with a sour look on his face, and Todoroki expected him to make some comment, to laugh or jeer. But Bakugou only looked on, silent, through narrowed eyes, standing off to one side. Just as Midoriya seemed loath to take his eyes off Kirishima, Bakugou did not shift his gaze from Midoriya.

And Todoroki watched them all. He saw the way Bakugou stared at Midoriya, not so different from the way a hawk might stare at a mouse, and thought: _Maybe I should stay here after all._

After only a minute or so, Kirishima turned human again and pulled himself, sopping wet, onto the riverbank. "Your turn," he said to Bakugou, showing all of his strange sharp teeth as he grinned.

"I'm not going to swim, _idiot_ ," Bakugou said. "It's fucking cold out here."

"Wimp," Kirishima said, stepping closer and dripping on him. "So sensitive! No, I don't mean swim. I mean – catch us lunch."

A strange look passed over Bakugou's face – surprise? embarrassment? – but flicked away in a moment, replaced by his typical annoyance. "Don't feel like it now. Maybe later."

Midoriya was staring at them in confusion, and Todoroki was tempted to ask what they were talking about, but was content to sit back and watch the discussion. "Midoriya's given us two meals now," Kirishima said. "He shared his house. We owe him something, don't we?"

Bakugou's face turned bright red, and he stuttered something that Todoroki couldn't make out. _Are they talking about going fishing?_ Todoroki thought, and at nearly the same instance Midoriya, clearly understanding enough of the argument to get this gist, said, "Kirishima, you don't owe us anything. Bakugou, you don't need to…"

"Catch them your damn self," Bakugou said, ignoring Midoriya entirely.

Kirishima smirked. "They'd have bite marks in them. And you know it's easier for you."

Midoriya was saying something about this not being the right time of day to catch fish when Bakugou interrupted him again. "Not in front of _them_ ," he said, his voice half grumble, half whine.

"Now, or I'll pull you in," Kirishima said, voice playful. He made no move towards Bakugou, though. Todoroki was fascinated: it was the tone and the triumphant facial expression, of someone who knew they'd won, but Todoroki had no idea what the battle even was about.

"Fuck you," Bakugou said, but he took off his shoes and sat down on the riverbank, careful to avoid the grass that Kirishima had dripped on.

Todoroki snuck a glance at Midoriya, who was clearly just as baffled at Todoroki himself. The whole scene was bizarre and awkward, just as uncomfortable as witnessing strangers arguing. If the topic hadn't been so strange Todoroki would have already left, but he was deeply intrigued at the same time, wondering what Bakugou so badly did not want to show them.

"It's cold," Bakugou said. "I'm going numb."

"Isn't that good?" Todoroki said, but under his breath, so no one else could hear.

"Here they come!" Kirishima said, jumping back into the water still in his human form and grabbing a fish. He tossed it onto the bank and grabbed another. And a third.

"What in the world…" Midoriya said, his eyes gone huge again.

"The fish love Bakugou," Kirishima said, tossing a fourth fish onto the shore and then pulling himself out. Bakugou took his feet out of the water too. The entire process had taken less than a minute. "They _love_ him."

Todoroki did not know what to say. He watched as Kirishima helped Bakugou to his feet, then together they gathered up the clothes and the fish that lay on the grass. The fish writhed in Kirishima's hands, but not in Bakugou's.

"What is this?" Midoriya asked. He seemed too stunned to move.

"I told you," Kirishima said, grinning like he himself was proud. Bakugou still looked put-out, but wasn't as mad as Todoroki had expected him to be.

"I know, but…" Midoriya made a frustrated noise and gestured to the fish.

"Look, I don't fucking know either," Bakugou said. "All of a sudden this started happening."

Todoroki had to admire the casualness with which he said those words, as if "this" referred to an unexpected rain or running into an old friend, not fish desperately swimming towards him, practically begging to die. "How long since this began?" he asked Bakugou.

"Since I reached the ocean," he said. "I mean, maybe longer, but I can't remember. That's when I noticed it for the first time. I don't remember if it was always this way or not."

"It was _not_ always this way," Midoriya said, laughing a little with disbelief. "Remember us playing in the river as kids? Don't you think you or I would have noticed if fish started bumping up against you?"

"Yeah," Bakugou said. "Right. Yeah."

There was a silence that fell over them, which lasted until they'd reached Midoriya's house again. Todoroki wondered if Bakugou hated the other boy so much that he didn't even like being reminded they'd ever been friends.

Todoroki pulled Midoriya aside just before they were to enter the house. "Let me help you today," he said, his voice quiet. Kirishima and Bakugou had already entered before them, bringing the now-dead fish inside. They would come back out in a moment, Todoroki knew.

"Help me?"

"With – whatever you do. Sheep or crops or whatever."

"Thank you, but I'm fine. I can do it myself."

"I know you _can_ do it yourself," Todoroki said. "But I want to help you." Even if the idea of manual labor sounded awful, he _did_ want to help Midoriya, so he tried to look as earnest as he could. "Please."

"Alright," Midoriya said, smiling, and Todoroki had the strange sensation of being both relieved and disappointed at the same time. "Thank you."

xxxxxx

xxxxxx

"That trick you pulled," Bakugou said, as soon as they were alone.

Kirishima resisted the urge to play innocent. There was a bit of an edge in Bakugou's voice, a tone that was unfamiliar to him. "What about it?"

"I didn't appreciate it!"

They'd dropped off the fish and left without a word to the others. Bakugou lead them northwest, not seeming to follow any path, just meandering, maybe heading towards the river but in a more roundabout way. He made twice as much noise as he needed while walking, and every time he saw something on the ground – a stick, a rock, an unsuspecting plant – he kicked it full-force away from himself.

 _Yeah_ , Kirishima thought, _he's definitely mad._ "You don't think it was fair? Midoriya let us sleep in his house and prepared us food. You don't want to owe him, do you?"

Bakugou stopped walking and narrowed his eyes at Kirishima, baring his teeth in what might look like a smile, if Kirishima didn't know better. "Of course I don't – it isn't that!"

"What is it then?"

But Bakugou was incensed beyond words, and could only shake his head. Wondering whether he'd gone too far, Kirishima stepped closer, so they were almost-but-not-quite touching. "What is it?" he said again, his voice gentler this time. "I'm sorry, I thought…"

"It's fine," Bakugou said, a little less angrily than before. Kirishima's close proximity had soothed him.

"They'd probably find out sooner or later," Kirishima said. "I think it's better to have these things out in the open. I don't want to have to lie to Todoroki and Midoriya. I want all of us to be friends."

Something about that last sentence made Bakugou jerk his head up to look Kirishima straight in the eye, yet Kirishima had no idea what about it had caused that reaction. "You still don't trust Todoroki?" he said, knowing he was probably wrong – simple distrust of a stranger probably wouldn't cause that near-violent reaction – but feeling that an incorrect guess might still get Bakugou to talk.

He shook his head. "I don't trust him, but, I mean…"

"It isn't that?" Kirishima said. "Then tell me."

It was hard – having this person, _his_ person, so close, yet not knowing what he was thinking. Kirishima wanted to be able to crawl into Bakugou's brain and poke around, to see what was fueling his anger. He knew there was so much roiling just beneath the surface, but somewhere between Bakugou's brain and Bakugou's mouth there was a dam that held everything back.

Bakugou seemed to be able to answer simple questions, though, so at least Kirishima could chip away at him, and maybe find out more than he otherwise could. "Is it something else to do with Todoroki?"

Bakugou shook his head. "So," Kirishima ventured, "it's something to do with Midoriya."

A pause, then Bakugou nodded, looking away.

Kirishima thought back to that morning – Bakugou's hesitation, his anger. Kirishima hadn't gotten a good look at his face, but from what he had seen, Bakugou had been blushing. "You were embarrassed?" he said, voice gentle, one hand reaching out slowly to rest, unsure, on Bakugou's forearm.

"No. What the fuck," Bakugou said, too quickly.

Kirishima found himself smiling, but pushed the expression off his face as fast as he could. Bakugou wasn't meeting his eyes, but Kirishima didn't want him to see the expression and think he was being mocked. It was just that Kirishima was proud of himself, proud that he knew Bakugou well enough to be able to tell what was a lie and what was the truth. And that had been a lie.

Kirishima made a little hum of acknowledgement but said nothing for a moment, thinking. Bakugou had been upset that Kirishima had told Midoriya he was a selkie and embarrassed to go in the river in front of the others – what did those things mean?

Kirishima tried the tactic of putting himself in Bakugou's place, hoping it would give him more insight. _How would I feel if I returned to a close friend after being apart for weeks, a friend I thought might be dead? And there was a stranger there, along with someone I didn't know as well…?_

Kirishima felt suddenly sad as he realized he was treading where he should not be. "I'm sorry," he said, taking his arm off of Bakugou's. "I should give you more space, shouldn't I?"

"Hah?"

Kirishima did laugh a little then, that noise of Bakugou's so familiar to him by now it made his heart ache. "You and Midoriya," he said. "You probably want more time with him, don't you?"

He snuck a glance at Bakugou – and was startled to see he was staring at Kirishima open-mouthed, looking truly surprised. " _What_?" Bakugou said. "What are you talking about?"

"You – Midoriya," Kirishima said, suddenly feeling a lot less sure. "You thought he was dead, you didn't see him for a long time, and now you haven't gotten a chance to talk with him one on one because of me. I know you must have missed him…"

"Kirishima," Bakugou said, cutting him off, "what – you're – stop, listen to me!" He inhaled deeply. "I didn't miss Deku." _That nickname again,_ thought Kirishima.

"You didn't?"

"Of course not!" He pounded a fist into the palm of the other hand. "I wish someone else had lived, anyone else! Why did it have to be _him_?"

This… this was not what Kirishima had been expecting.

"Damn idiot can't even tell me…" With a start Kirishima realized the other boy was near tears. "He can't even tell me if my parents are alive or not! I just wish I knew, one way or another!" He met Kirishima's eyes, his swimming with tears. "I hate him!"

"Oh." Kirishima felt stupid for the assumptions he'd made, and hated himself a little for the twinge of what could only be relief. "But the nickname…"

"What?"

"He has a nickname that _only you use,"_ Kirishima said. "A nickname you gave him!"

"It's an insult," Bakugou said. "It's not – you really thought…?" He laughed aloud, laughed despite the tears on his cheeks. "Oh, God, Kirishima, I can't believe you thought he was special to me. No, no, not at all. Exactly the opposite."

The sour feeling of jealousy had drained completely out of Kirishima now, leaving him oddly hollow. He swallowed numbly, watching Bakugou, wanting to understand. "What did he do to make you hate him?" The gleam in Bakugou's eyes was ugly, harsh, like nothing Kirishima had ever seen in them before. "He must have done something awful."

"Nah," Bakugou said, so casual about the entire thing it made Kirishima ill. "Not really. He was just annoying _._ Followed me everywhere. Always copied me, like he wanted to _be_ me. I hated that. Like having some stupid baby brother, except we're not actually related. God, _fuck_ that guy."

He stopped, looking sharply at Kirishima's face. Kirishima didn't know what expression he had, but he knew what he was feeling: pity for Midoriya, and, for Bakugou, something very close to disgust.

"He isn't that bad," Kirishima said, thinking of the boy's earnestness. Yes, he could see Midoriya as a follower, a little brother type, full of admiration and a desire to be friends. It might be annoying at worst, but for Bakugou to say he hated him, and _mean_ it?

"He _is_ that bad!" Bakugou said, laughing.

"He isn't!" Kirishima made up his mind at that moment – he liked Midoriya, liked him and wanted to get to know him better. Most of what had held him back before was that misaimed jealousy, and now that it was gone he felt nothing but sympathy for him. "You're cruel."

Bakugou's smile faded a little, but not entirely. Kirishima decided he'd had enough. He stripped off his clothes, leaving them on the ground where they fell, and ran to the edge of the river.

"Kirishima –"

"What!" he said, naked now except his sealskin. "What do you want!"

"I never said I hated _you_ , idiot," Bakugou said, as near to tender as Bakugou's voice could be.

"I know," Kirishima said. "It doesn't matter." He blinked and inhaled sharply, feeling _tears_ , of all things. He didn't cry often, didn't know why _this_ was making him cry or why he cared so much to begin with.

"So stop overreacting," Bakugou said, his voice slow, but Kirishima thought there was some underlying urgency in it – the laziness was just an act. "You don't need to go anywhere. Why are you running away?"

"I'm not running away!"

He _was_ running away, he knew, but he also knew that if he stayed in his human form, he wouldn't be able to be alone, and at that moment he needed solitude. Having Bakugou nearby made him more emotional, it seemed – for good and for bad. Kirishima needed to be alone to feel like himself again.

"Kirishima," Bakugou said again, the smile entirely gone. "What are you…"

"I'll be back," Kirishima said, not knowing whether he meant it or not. He dove into the river, turning into his seal form in the air, and let the current take him away from the village and from Bakugou.


	10. Part 2, Chapter 5

**Author's Note:** I said I would update weekly, but here I am, 3 days later, just finished the chapter today and without any willpower to wait. So I guess we're still on a schedule of "I'll update when I have something to post".

* * *

It didn't exactly surprise Midoriya that Bakugou and Kirishima were gone all day. He knew they weren't gone for good because they'd left some things behind, so Midoriya didn't give much thought to where they might have wandered off to. It was better, he knew, to just let them be.

Bakugou was miserable, and Midoriya knew why. Midoriya was the _reason_ why. He wished he'd made some effort to remember who had and hadn't died, but he'd been in a desperate place then, acting blindly, half mad with grief. He couldn't really blame his past self, could hardly even believe he had survived those first weeks. They felt so distant, like someone else's memories, or his from years and years ago.

Bakugou hated Midoriya under the best of circumstances. It was no wonder he wanted nothing to do with him now. Midoriya would have to find a better place for them to sleep sooner rather than later, if he wanted them to stay. Which he did. Mostly.

He _definitely_ wanted Kirishima to stay, because Kirishima was interesting and exciting and cheerful and seemed like a good person. (A good selkie?) Midoriya wanted to get to know him better, partially because of his selkie-ness but mostly because he seemed nice and was kind to Midoriya. And it seemed like he was a package deal with Bakugou, so that meant, by extension, that Midoriya also wanted Bakugou to stay.

He could not say how he would have felt if Bakugou had returned alone. It didn't matter, of course, because Bakugou _hadn't_ returned alone, but Midoriya still felt ashamed at the idea that he might've wished Bakugou gone – Bakugou, whose home this was as much as it was Midoriya's, who was certainly hurting as much as Midoriya was.

Because the fact remained: it was hard to live with someone who hated you.

xxxxxx

First things first, Midoriya found the house that was second least burned. It also had a bed, rather worse for wear from being left out in the elements. He fixed it up the best he could, washing the sheets, hanging them up to dry and adding some more stuffing to the mattress. If Kirishima and Bakugou didn't find it to their liking, they could always sleep on the floor; it hadn't seemed to bother them the night before. The important part was that they had their own place they could retreat to.

Todoroki helped him the entire day, doing whatever Midoriya asked without complaint. Together they cleaned out the house, rebuilt as much of the walls as they could and began to fix the roof. It wasn't in as good of shape as Midoriya's house had been before he'd started, but with two people the work went much faster. Provided it didn't rain, Bakugou and Kirishima would have their own place to sleep by evening.

At least dinner would be easy to prepare. Todoroki helped him debone the fish – Midoriya had to teach him from the ground up, but he was a quick learner – and soon the little house was full of the appetizing smell of it roasting. It was only after they were finished cooking that Midoriya realized he'd been premature in starting when he had, because Kirishima and Bakugou hadn't returned yet.

"There aren't that many places they can be," he said, speaking to himself as much as to Todoroki. The boy watched him, blank-faced and silent. "Unless they wandered off and got lost…" He shook his head. "No. Bakugou wouldn't have gotten lost. Kirishima maybe, but only if they separated. Maybe Kirishima wandered off and Bakugou is trying to find him? Or perhaps they just lost track of time…"

"Do you want me to go look for them?" Todoroki said.

Midoriya almost volunteered to do it himself, but realized that Bakugou would probably prefer to speak with the near-stranger over Midoriya. He tried to pretend that didn't sting. "Yeah, thanks," he said, turning away and pretending to make some adjustment to the settings on the table, because he knew his face was crumpled up with anger.

Todoroki wasn't gone long, but returned with only Bakugou in tow. Midoriya thought for a second that his prediction had come true, until Bakugou said, "Kirishima went for a swim. He'll be back later."

"He's skipping dinner?" Midoriya said. Only the day before Kirishima had complimented Midoriya's cooking and had eaten everything on his plate. "Do selkies eat less than humans?"

Bakugou shrugged and wouldn't say anything else about it, so they ate without Kirishima, no one speaking for the duration of the meal. Midoriya divided the extra food into thirds and split it amongst them, but Bakugou didn't eat his extra portion – in fact, he hardly ate any of his own. Clearly there was something going on beneath the surface that Midoriya wasn't aware of, but if he pried – if he even showed the slightest bit of interest in it – Bakugou would put up a wall, and Midoriya would never learn anything. It was better not to try, to pretend not to care.

"Todoroki and I cleared out a house for the two of you," Midoriya said after they were done eating, trying to sound cheerful and probably failing miserably. "I wanted you to have a place of your own, so things weren't so crowded tonight. There's a bed, too, so you don't have to sleep on the floor."

He expected – well, not _gratitude_ , not if he was being honest with himself, but he expected _something_. A nod, an "alright". Not the blank stare he got. Bakugou wasn't even really looking at him – his eyes seemed almost unfocused, as if he was gazing at something beyond Midoriya.

"We've nearly finished," he went on, his smile growing broader in an attempt to get some kind of reaction, even as he felt himself turn cold with nerves. Why did Bakugou have this effect on him? From the way Midoriya reacted, you'd think he was eight feet tall. "You can sleep there tonight, unless it rains, but I don't think it's going to. Todoroki, do you think it's going to rain?"

Todoroki looked startled to be brought into the conversation, but after a second he shook his head. "I don't think so."

Midoriya thought Bakugou was going to ignore them again; he was quiet for a long time, but after a moment he let out a sigh. "Not tonight."

"What?" Midoriya said, unsure if he was talking about the chance of rain or something else.

"I don't think I'll sleep there tonight," Bakugou said. His voice didn't have the usual bite in it, and he looked down at his hands, which lay loosely in his lap. "I'll stay here one more night."

Midoriya had no idea what to say to that. He could only stare at Bakugou, who looked away. After maybe half a minute Todoroki stood, the loud scrape of his chair on the floor startling all of them. He walked towards the door, bumping Midoriya's shoulder on his way, and stepped outside. Midoriya, understanding the cue at once, followed.

"Todoroki," he began, but Todoroki shook his head.

"I don't know either. Just let him stay," Todoroki said.

"But we – why doesn't he –"

"Kirishima," Todoroki said.

"Huh?"

"He must not know where Kirishima is, or when he'll be back. Kirishima only knows your house. If Bakugou's staying in a different place and Kirishima returns in the middle of the night, he won't be able to find him and might think he left."

" _Ohhh_ ," Midoriya said, finally getting Todoroki's point. Then: "He doesn't know where Kirishima is?"

Todoroki shrugged. "I don't know. But if he did, I'd guess he'd be with him."

"Right." He thought about this for a moment. "Do you think Kirishima could be in trouble? Should we look for him?"

"If we did, I don't think we'd find him," Todoroki said. "Bakugou was sitting by the river. Probably Kirishima swam – somewhere."

"Oh…"

"I think Kirishima might have left," Todoroki said. "And Bakugou doesn't know if he's coming back or not. Or when to expect him."

Midoriya felt a stab of distress at the thought, but swallowed it down. His sadness wouldn't bring Kirishima back, and it was obvious the selkie's absence was affecting Bakugou even more strongly. "Thank you, Todoroki," Midoriya said.

Todoroki nodded, looking a little surprised at the gratitude, and they went back into the house together.

xxxxxx

xxxxxx

Todoroki was almost ashamed at how well-rested he felt after a night's sleep on the bed. His body felt no guilt that the others had to sleep on the floor. If he didn't want Midoriya to secretly start resenting him, he knew he would have to give the bed back at some point, but his back rejoiced that that point hadn't come yet.

He was the first to wake up. After a moment he sat up, looking down on the others. There were only two: Midoriya next to Todoroki's own bed and Bakugou further away, curled up next to the fireplace. Kirishima was still nowhere to be seen.

Maybe Todoroki rising had woken the others, because they both stirred where they lay and opened their eyes. Todoroki watched Bakugou spring up into a sitting position and look around the room, his face falling as he realized Kirishima hadn't returned yet. It wasn't a scowl or a look of annoyance – it was almost fear. He turned back towards the fireplace before Midoriya could see his face, and Todoroki felt as if he'd witnessed something he shouldn't have seen, something Bakugou wanted to keep secret from the world.

They ate breakfast in silence. After they'd finished eating, Todoroki watched as Bakugou left the house, then followed him out. He wasn't sure if Bakugou knew he was being followed or not, but if he did, he didn't seem to care.

Bakugou went to the river and sat down on the grass along the banks, leaning back on his arms with his legs crossed. He was not touching the water. After a minute of watching him, Todoroki approached and sat down too. Bakugou glanced at him, then looked immediately back towards the river, his gaze focused downstream.

They sat side by side in silence for some time. Todoroki knew what they were waiting for but was unsure if he'd ever come. Bakugou said nothing, so Todoroki didn't say anything either, content to listen to the sounds of the river and the birds and the wind in the grass.

After a few minutes Todoroki saw motion out of the corner of his eye: Bakugou taking off his shoes. He watched, wondering what the boy was doing, as he lowered his bare feet into the water, wincing as he did so.

Todoroki peered into the water. Just like the previous morning, the fish were flocking. They really did love Bakugou, swimming over one another to get to him. It did not look like they were biting him, just pressing themselves against him, caressing him.

"I've never seen anything like it," Todoroki said. "You really have no idea…?"

Bakugou shook his head.

"I suppose it could be a spell, or a curse," Todoroki said. A pause, then, to himself: "But what would the _point_ be?"

Bakugou, wordless, continued to stare at the river. The fish were thick now. If Todoroki were to jump in, he wouldn't be able to swim in the area without touching them. "I didn't know there even were that many fish in this river."

"There's more in the ocean." Bakugou looked at him then, his eyes lit up with some memory Todoroki could only imagine. "You should have seen them."

After maybe ten minutes Bakugou took his feet out. The fish swarmed just as thickly for a few moments, but lost interest soon after. Soon they began to float, disoriented, drifting downstream as they stopped fighting the current.

As Todoroki followed their progress, he saw what at first he took to be a late-arriving school of fish – a dark shadow beneath the surface of the water. As it drew nearer Todoroki realized it wasn't caused by fish at all. It was the shape of a seal, as graceful and sleek as a bird of prey as it swam towards them.

Todoroki moved to nudge Bakugou, but he was already aware: he sat staring, rigid, his eyes wide. As they watched, Kirishima actually snagged a fish in the water, tearing it apart and swallowing it practically whole. His face was obscured in a cloud of blood, but only for a second, until the current swept it away.

Todoroki had begun to wonder if Kirishima was going to pass them by entirely, but finally he stopped swimming and stuck his head out of the water. His eyes were large and so dark no pupils were visible, and he had long whiskers like a dog. Todoroki only had a moment to look on the strange face before Kirishima transformed, and suddenly he was in front of them again, up to his shoulders in water.

Bakugou surged forward, stretching his arms out, and caught Kirishima's hands; he nearly tumbled into the river in his attempt to help the selkie out of it. But after one tense, unsure moment, the balance tipped in the other direction and Kirishima was pulled bodily onto the shore, half atop Bakugou, who was soaked. The sealskin covered them both, and Bakugou ran a hand over the surface of it, his fingertips as gentle as if he was touching a lover's skin.

The spell only lasted a moment; Kirishima struggled to his feet, and Bakugou and Todoroki followed a moment later. Todoroki noticed the other two standing a little distance apart, looking at each other as if they weren't sure of what to say, or didn't want to speak their minds around Todoroki. He felt, for the second time that day, like he was intruding on someone else's private life.

"Midoriya and I fixed up another house for you," Todoroki said. "So you don't have to share with us if you don't want to. It was getting a little crowded, he thought."

Kirishima blinked, surprised, maybe confused.

"Do you want me to show you?" Todoroki said, speaking to both of them now, since he remembered Bakugou hadn't seen the place yet, either.

"Sure," Kirishima said, smiling a little – and Todoroki realized he'd missed him, missed the way he made everything more relaxed just by being there.

Without another word Todoroki led them away from the river and back towards the village.

xxxxxx

xxxxxx

Kirishima ate dinner with the three humans and no one brought up his absence of the night before. Kirishima knew they were all just being polite, but he almost wanted Todoroki or Midoriya to ask where he'd been and why he'd left. He wanted to see Bakugou try to explain what their argument had been about. (How had he explained Kirishima being gone in the first place?)

But no, there was something unspoken, or at least unheard by Kirishima, that stopped them from discussing it as a group. They all treated each other very nicely, saying _please_ and _thank you_ , and Kirishima wanted to scream, _Don't you all want to know where I was? Why I left?_ If he was in their place he would be dying to talk about it. He was dying to talk about it _anyway_.

After dinner he and Bakugou went to their own house – Kirishima first with Bakugou following behind. Kirishima went first to the fireplace and tried to light it, but after a few tries Bakugou, always better at it, stepped in to help.

After the fire was lit, Kirishima stood and turned to look at the house. They'd seen it earlier, of course, by day; now, lit only by firelight, it felt somehow larger, as if there might be unexplored places hiding in the shadows.

"You can have the bed," Kirishima said, since just like the other house there was only one. Bakugou shot him an irritated look, and Kirishima laughed. "What?"

"You can have it."

"No," Kirishima said in near disbelief. "I know you want it more than me."

"Then we'll alternate," Bakugou said, frowning.

"No, seriously…"

"We can share," Bakugou tried again, although from his tone he was skeptical of his own words.

"I would rather sleep on the floor," Kirishima said. "Please. Don't worry about it."

Bakugou sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, watching as Kirishima made a sort of nest in the blankets on the floor, like he'd done in the other house – similar to the way they'd dug out body-shaped divots of sand on the beach. He was aware Bakugou hadn't taken his eyes off of him the entire time they'd been in the house together, but Kirishima didn't let himself turn to look back until he was done. As soon as their eyes met, Bakugou looked down. _Obvious_ , Kirishima thought, feeling stupidly fond of him.

He'd tried to be angry at Bakugou. No, he _had_ been angry at him, and he still was – it was just that, confusingly, Kirishima felt the anger in him sitting side by side with affection and desire for closeness. He'd had no idea it was possible to hold such conflicting feelings towards a person at the same time and have them all be how he really felt.

Kirishima felt it was Bakugou's turn to speak – to apologize, to explain himself, _something_ – but he also knew that Bakugou wasn't going to. If Kirishima wanted them to talk, he would have to begin, so he took a deep breath and spoke. "I didn't go too far," he said. "And I was already swimming back and I felt…"

Unsure of the word to use, he didn't finish the sentence, but Bakugou nodded. "I was hoping you would," he said.

He'd felt the pull. He'd only been in his seal form twice before when Bakugou had gone in the water, and both times he'd felt it then too, although he hadn't realized until later. The first time, moments before they'd met, Kirishima had assumed it was merely curiosity: the fish were swimming towards the shore, so he did too, wanting to see what they were running towards or from. The second time he'd gotten out of the water too quickly to be completely sure; before swimming, he had just told Bakugou he was a selkie, and half of him had expected to be alone when he next set foot on shore. The idea that Bakugou was calling the fish meant he hadn't run, so Kirishima had raced towards him, excited.

But this time… this time, he'd stayed away long enough to know it actually, truly was _pulling_ him. It felt like an instinct: the same way his body acted of its own accord when he felt a predator was close by, it had begun swimming on its own, with no input from him. He could fight it – he'd tested that. He did not behave mindlessly, because he wasn't mindless. If he thought he was in danger, or if he just decided to go a different direction, he'd be able to swim away. It just meant that if he did so, there was a little voice in the back of his mind saying, _Are you sure you want to do that?_

It didn't make any sense, because he wasn't a fish, but at this point he couldn't deny it any longer. It only happened when he was in his seal form and only when he was in the water, but Kirishima definitely felt the pull of Bakugou's – whatever it was. Gift? Ability? Power?

"You called me back," he said, and Bakugou nodded.

"Yes."

The directness of Bakugou's gaze made Kirishima feel dizzy, so he stood and approached the boy, sitting next to him on the bed. He assumed that they'd be too close for Bakugou to keep looking at him, but Bakugou simply shifted away slightly and kept his gaze trained on Kirishima: unyielding, direct, almost predatory in its focus.

"What you said about Midoriya made me feel sad," Kirishima said, after a moment's pause. He'd thought these words over, composing editing speeches in his mind, although he could only remember bits and pieces of them now, nervous as he was. "I don't know Midoriya as well as you do, of course, but I don't think the things you listed are good reasons to hate him." Bakugou looked away at last, although Kirishima knew he was still listening. "I can't make you change your mind about him," he went on, the words flowing more smoothly now, "but, if you could, could you try to be… not nice, you don't have to be nice, but – not hostile."

"I haven't been hostile, have I?"

"No," Kirishima said, thinking back. "No, you haven't." He thought of something else he wanted to say, and spoke quickly, before he could be interrupted: "And please don't tell me again how much you hate him. Even if you do."

Bakugou raised his head to look at Kirishima again, apparently thinking it over. After a moment he gave a single nod.

"Are you still mad at me?" he asked, voice low, after a moment's silence.

"Yes – no –" Kirishima felt as if he was in a tangle of emotions from which he couldn't tug himself free, and laughed, shaking his head. "I don't know. I don't want to leave though. I want to be with you."

The issue, he'd realized, was that he was seeing sides of Bakugou he hadn't seen when it was just the two of them living on the beach. He knew he would, but he assumed it would just involve grief. He hadn't imagined his sulky, odd, charming human would be the sort who would hate another person, entirely, maliciously, for no reason.

He still liked Bakugou, though. He still wanted to be with him. That hadn't changed. He just felt wiser, somehow – as if he understood humans a little more now than he had just a couple of days ago. No, not humans: Bakugou.

"Good," Bakugou said, looking away still, and Kirishima realized Bakugou really didn't want him to leave. He'd been sitting by the river; he'd been calling him back. Hoping.

"I'm glad we've come to an agreement," Kirishima said, and then he could not hold himself back any longer: he threw his arms around Bakugou, laughing, and held him close, breathing him in, happy to be back.


	11. Part 2, Chapter 6

A few days later came the first really cold morning of the season – the first frost. Todoroki woke when all was still; the blankets on him weren't quite enough to keep him warm with the fire burned out. After a few agonizing minutes of trying to decide whether he should stay in bed until it warmed up – which would be a long time, probably – or start the fire again himself, he decided on the latter, and, shivering, left his warm cocoon.

Midoriya was curled up as close to the fire as he could get without actually being in the fireplace. Blankets were covering his entire body, including his face and head, but from the stillness of them Todoroki guessed he was asleep yet. After he took one final glance at Midoriya just to make sure, Todoroki leaned forward and lit the fire using magic. It was far too cold to fumble around with flint; he was slow and clumsy at it under the best circumstances.

The fire lit, he stood back a little and felt his hands relax as warmth filled them. He saw Midoriya, still curled up at his feet, shift and roll over in his sleep, and felt an unexpected surge of affection. It made Todoroki a strange mixture of happy and ashamed to see physical proof of what Midoriya had given up for him without complaint.

There was a knock at the door, almost inaudible, and then it was opened a crack. Kirishima poked his face through, his eyes still sleep-cloudy, his hair mussed. "Oh good, I didn't wake you," he said, his voice low, as he scanned the house. "We're out of firewood. Can I have –"

He stopped dead the moment he was fully inside, his eyes fixed on Todoroki and his mouth a little open. Todoroki watched him, confused, wondering if something about him that morning appeared strange enough to elicit that kind of response, when Kirishima finally spoke again: "Come here?"

It was a question, not a demand, but Todoroki still felt annoyed and wished he could get some kind of explanation. Kirishima didn't step away from the door, which was half open; his hand was resting on the handle. He motioned Todoroki closer until they were standing close enough to touch, then he leaned forward and inhaled.

"Todoroki," he said, his voice full of wonder and confusion, "that smell, it's – it's really strong right now."

Todoroki thought back to what he'd been doing, when the realization hit him. "Ah," he said, frowning. Magic. It was magic. "That smell is the smell you said was non-human?"

"Yes."

"The reason you asked me what I was, that first day?"

"Yes!"

He felt a little curl of something, some emotion, which he pushed to the side for now. "Come with me," he said to Kirishima, stepping past him and out of the house. The cold was much stronger there; it hit him like a wall, and it actually hurt to inhale.

When they were both out in the clear light of day, standing near one another on the grass outside the houses, Todoroki turned to Kirishima and said, "I'm going to do something. Tell me if you smell it more strongly."

Kirishima nodded and moved a quarter-circle to his right. Getting downwind, Todoroki realized. He thought of spells to do that Kirishima would also not detect, and decided to produce a light so faint it was invisible in the sharp morning light. Kirishima was looking at his face, anyways, not his hands, where the light came from. Todoroki held the spell for just a moment before releasing it, but apparently it was long enough: Kirishima's expression had changed from one of concentration into a half-grin of surprise.

"That's it!" he said, voice loud with excitement. "That smell –" He took a deep breath. Todoroki was growing used to being smelled; it was honestly a little strange how normal it seemed now. "That _has_ to be strong enough for you to smell it. Can't you smell that?"

"I…"

Todoroki thought about it. _Did_ magic have a smell? He didn't think it did, but that could have been because he was so used to it that it no longer stood out to him. Maybe, he thought, it was the same way everyone else seemed to have their own, personal scent, but he himself did not – not because he didn't, but because he could not perceive his own smell as being anything other than neutral.

The emotion Todoroki been reining in before, he realized, was disappointment. As soon as Kirishima had put the idea that he might be not quite fully human into his head, a small, quiet part of him had hoped it would turn out to be true. Todoroki couldn't quite explain why he'd been excited at the idea, rather than repulsed or at least unsettled, but ever since the idea had taken hold, he'd scarcely let himself think about it for fear it might be untrue or forever left unexplained. His last scrap of hope gone, he felt the sense of disappointment take hold of him fully, and sighed, suddenly angry and tired and very, very cold. He wanted to go back to sleep.

As he headed back toward the house, Kirishima was right on his heels, breathless and curious. "So what _is_ it?"

Todoroki stopped, turned, not quite at the door yet. He had to make a choice. Kirishima had had a similar choice, but it had been made for him the moment Todoroki stumbled onto him in the river. _He trusted you,_ Todoroki thought. _Trust him._

"Magic," Todoroki said, unable to hide the bitterness in his voice. "I can use magic. Apparently it makes a smell."

" _Wow_ ," Kirishima said, voice soft and eyes wide. "I've heard of magic, but I've never met anyone who can use it." He let out a high-pitched laugh, maybe nervous, maybe excited. "Until you, that is!"

"The thing is, I _knew_ that," Todoroki said. "I knew I could use magic. It's no surprise."

"That's so neat," Kirishima said, but, a second later, he seemed to take in Todoroki's sour face for the first time, and his smile faded. "What's wrong?"

"It means you were wrong," Todoroki said. "I'm fully human, like I thought."

"And you're…" Kirishima looked at him, like his face was a language he could only half understand. "You're mad?"

" _Yes_ ," Todoroki said, then paused when he heard the edge on his own voice. It wasn't Kirishima's fault. He hadn't spoken with any intention beyond voicing his observations; he'd had no ulterior motives. He hadn't meant to lead Todoroki on. He paused and composed himself before speaking again. "Just disappointed."

"Why?" Kirishima said, stepping nearer. He was biting his lip – it looked painful, but didn't seem to bother him at all.

Just then, the door to Kirishima and Bakugou's house opened, and Bakugou stuck his head out, shivering, and shouted, "Kirishima?"

"Oh!" Kirishima looked between Todoroki and Bakugou several times. It was almost comical; Todoroki could see him considering his options, trying to decide if his curiosity towards the current conversation outweighed his loyalty to Bakugou. In the end, Bakugou won out, and Kirishima hurried towards him, shooting Todoroki an apologetic glance over his shoulder.

"You forgot the fucking firewood!" Bakugou said. "It's cold!"

"Right!" Kirishima ran back and burst into the other house. If Midoriya had still been asleep, Kirishima had probably just changed that. A moment later the selkie emerged again, arms loaded with wood. As he walked past Todoroki, he whispered, "Don't worry."

Obviously it was meant to reassure Todoroki that his secret was safe, but all it did was send a fresh thrill of annoyance through him again. As if Kirishima had any right to tell him that. He shook his head and walked back to the house, the sound of Bakugou chastising Kirishima for his distractedness fading away as he shut the door.

The house was silent, and now comfortably warm thanks to the good-sized fire. Midoriya was still fast asleep, his head poking out of the blankets, eyes shut, mouth slack.

Todoroki went back to bed, but didn't try to sleep. He knew he wouldn't be able to. He sat atop his blankets with his legs bent up to his chest, and thought, and fumed.

xxxxxx

xxxxxx

Midoriya woke up bathed in heat. His body was close to the fire, which was burning merrily, almost _too_ high in the little fireplace. Even though he'd pushed the blankets down past his waist, he still felt his body bathed in sweat. He shifted away and noticed that Todoroki was awake too, body folded up and chin resting on knees, staring off into space as imperious and stony-eyed as a king.

Midoriya was almost afraid to speak to him, he looked so serious; but, seeming to notice the movement, Todoroki's gaze shifted down to look at Midoriya, and his expression softened a little. He looked like a boy now, and the spell was broken.

"Good morning," Midoriya said softly, gingerly, wondering what things Todoroki had been thinking to make his face look so grand and sad.

"Good morning."

"What's wrong?" Midoriya was never sure how much he could get away with asking Todoroki. Under normal circumstances he wouldn't dare to question at all; he always remembered that first day, the closed-off expression Todoroki had taken on when Midoriya had asked him about himself. Midoriya never wanted to see that look again, but his tiredness took most of his filter away, and the question was out of his mouth before he'd even realized it was there.

Todoroki looked less closed-off and more confused. "Why do you ask?" he said, and Midoriya thought that he might've been wary, and certainly was taken aback, but if he was talking at all he wasn't likely to flee.

"Your face," Midoriya said. He swallowed – his throat was terribly dry – and then after a moment he added, "You just looked so angry about something." Was that the right word? "Or maybe annoyed – you just looked unhappy. I don't know."

As he finished, he shrugged, feeling stupid and inarticulate. Todoroki, though, looked at him sharply and unfolded himself, sitting with his bare feet flat on the floor. His brow was furrowed, and he was still frowning, but he didn't look upset anymore, just thoughtful. "I see," he said at last, then cleared his throat. Midoriya expected him to go on, and waited; but the silence dragged out awkwardly, and it seemed neither of them had more to say.

Midoriya rose and found his cup of water from the night before, and drank deeply. When he finished Todoroki was still looking at him. "You can tell me, you know," Midoriya said, feeling brave. "I'll hear you out. I, uh, well, I probably won't be able to help, but I can if I will."

Todoroki blinked and nodded. Then he cleared his throat again and said, "I'm sure you and Kirishima and Bakugou all assume I'm on the run – that I'm hiding from something." A pause, perhaps unintentional or perhaps for dramatic flair, Midoriya couldn't tell. "It's true. I am."

He was too surprised to process the words for a moment, but then it hit him: Todoroki was, finally, opening up to him. He was finally telling him his story. Midoriya felt a surge of excitement, and then nervousness – he wasn't sure why – and then he realized he was still standing next to the kitchen table while Todoroki was seated on the bed. It would be strange to stand or to take a seat either on the floor at his feet or on the bed next to him, so Midoriya pulled up one of the kitchen chairs and sat with his hands in his lap while he waited for Todoroki to continue.

"The royal magician…"

"Endeavor?" Midoriya chimed in, his enthusiasm causing him to interrupt before Todoroki had even begun.

"That's right. You know of him?" Todoroki seemed vaguely surprised. "He's my father."

Their village might have been in the middle of nowhere, but before, when it had been full and alive, it was not completely isolated. The villagers made trips several times a year to the nearest town, Broadstem, to sell their crops and wool and buy the things they needed but couldn't make themselves. The gossip they picked up was never the goal, of course, but it was a perk: the villagers who ventured out would return with stories of royalty, of popular generals and lords and heiresses, and some of them seemed so vivid and lifelike that Midoriya could almost imagine he knew the people.

Endeavor was one of those. Tall, strong, and immensely dangerous, he was said to be not only the strongest magic-user in the country but also one of the closest people to the king. He was the reason crime was so low in the royal city; he personally spent his time chasing down criminals. They said he was of such a height that his head scraped the ceiling, and that his magic was so powerful, and using it of so little consequence to him, that he walked around constantly wreathed in flame.

…Well, Midoriya was sure that that wasn't _all_ true, but he didn't particularly care to know which bits were or weren't because of how good a story the whole thing made. There may have even been a small part of him that didn't believe Endeavor was real because how like a character he seemed.

And now Todoroki was sitting in front of him and telling him, in complete earnestness, that he was the son of this man, this _character_ , and Midoriya felt himself torn between belief and doubt. He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again and said simply, "Oh."

"I know you probably don't believe me," Todoroki said, his voice level, his demeanor calm. "That's fine. I just thought you should know. That's the reason why there are so many people coming after me, after all."

"That's…" Midoriya shook his head. "That doesn't make any sense. They're coming after you because you're Endeavor's son? Couldn't Endeavor protect you? How did you get so far from the royal city?"

"Ah, I forgot to mention that I ran away," Todoroki said. "I suppose the story makes more sense if I don't leave that part out."

His calmness was throwing Midoriya off. For a second, he was prepared to take all of this in stride, but once he actually thought it over for more than a second he realized that wasn't possible. "Endeavor is your father," he said, "and you ran away from him."

"That's what I said."

"You ran away from _Endeavor_."

"Right."

"Oh God." Midoriya groaned and put his face in his hands. "Do you know what they say about him? How he's as big as a room and covered in flames? That he can kill a man with a single punch? That he's personally imprisoned more criminals than anyone else in the history of the kingdom?"

"Those are all true," Todoroki said. Then, after a moment, he added, "Actually, I'm not sure about that last one. I haven't looked at all of the data –"

"Todoroki," Midoriya interrupted, "am I going to _die_?"

The boy looked at Midoriya a moment, blank-faced, before the corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile; Midoriya would have been struck speechless at the expression under different circumstances. It was probably the most unguarded he'd ever seen Todoroki, but Midoriya was still a bit clammy with shock and could not savor it.

"You aren't going to die," Todoroki said simply.

"How can you be so sure? You said the rumors are true, and that means he's immensely powerful – I'm sure it would be no problem for him – and I'm hiding you from him, oh God oh God –"

"You aren't going to die because they aren't going to find me," Todoroki said. There was a note of finality in his voice, a tone that didn't invite questions.

But Midoriya had too many to let it go. "How can you be so sure of that?"

"They haven't found me yet, have they?"

Midoriya looked at him – head held high and eyes narrowed as if he was daring Midoriya to doubt him – and thought, _How could I be the same age as him?_ Todoroki gave off the air of being much older and tougher than his young face would otherwise suggest. Midoriya had never met anyone like him. There wasn't any proof he really was Endeavor's son, of course, but that look, that poise, was the reason Midoriya couldn't just dismiss the idea.

There was half a minute or so of silence, and then they ended up speaking at exactly the same time. They blinked, and Midoriya laughed in surprise.

"You first," Todoroki said, after an awkward moment.

"I was just wondering why you were angry this morning," he said. "Did something in particular happen?"

"Oh." Todoroki ran a hand through his hair, mixing red and white strands together. "Well. Sort of?" He paused, evidently thinking how best to phrase it. "Kirishima discovered it."

"He – really? He discovered you were Endeavor's son? How?"

"Well, no," Todoroki said, "he discovered that I can use magic."

"Oh. And you didn't want him to find out? You wanted it to be a secret?"

"Not really. It doesn't matter." He huffed and looked away.

Obviously there was something else there, but Midoriya was beginning to sense the frustration he'd felt from Todoroki before, the walls he put up when he was questioned, and decided to back off. Even if Todoroki hadn't actually explained why he'd been upset, he'd explained something else, something bigger. Midoriya was going to need time to mull it over. "You can use _magic_."

"Yes," Todoroki said. "I was going to say, just now, that you probably want proof, don't you? I'm not expecting you to trust me just like that."

For a moment Midoriya's reflex was to be polite, to say _No, I trust you_ – then he realized what Todoroki was actually offering. He was going to _show him_ _magic_.

"Yes, of course," Midoriya said, jumping to his feet. "I'd love to see!"

Todoroki smiled, and this time Midoriya could savor the expression. It made the boy look young again, a little less fierce, a little softer. Midoriya felt, in that moment, that he would never in his life grow bored of Todoroki's face – its quick changes, its subtlety and expressiveness.

"Then come with me," Todoroki said, and led him out into the cold bright morning.


	12. Part 2, Chapter 7

As he sat in the house with Bakugou, Kirishima tried to put a name to what he wanted, and found he could not.

They'd woken up cold, and Bakugou had just now gotten the fire going again. They both sat on the ground in front of it, blankets (and, in Kirishima's case, sealskin) around their shoulders like capes, hands outstretched in front of them to be closer to the flames. Bakugou was sleepy, wordless, apparently content just to sit there and enjoy the warmth.

Kirishima knew Bakugou was his human, his favorite human – his favorite _person,_ period. He was entranced by Todoroki and Midoriya, of course, and glad he'd met them, but that appreciation was different than what he felt for Bakugou. He would rather be around one or both of them than be alone, but he had also noticed Bakugou acted differently when he was around them, smiling and talking less. After learning Bakugou's true feelings for Midoriya, Kirishima supposed that made sense, and of course Todoroki, quiet himself, was still mostly a stranger. There was a mutual distrust there – not animosity, just a sense that neither one of them understood or particularly liked the other. Kirishima felt lucky that Bakugou seemed to reserve certain expressions of his for Kirishima alone.

Kirishima realized he'd rather be with Bakugou only than have the four of them together if it meant a quieter, unhappier Bakugou. It surprised him to realize how much of a preference he had for this one person. It wasn't just that he'd met him first and gotten to know him before he'd known the others; if he had met them all at the same time, Kirishima felt he still would have chosen Bakugou over anyone else.

As the two of them sat side by side, warming their hands by the fire, Kirishima was struck by how much he did not know about Bakugou and about human life in general. He didn't know anything about human relationships. He knew the definitions of general terms, of course: some had selkie equivalents, like parents and children and siblings. He understood the concept of friends, and knew in a vague sense that that was probably what he and Bakugou were at the moment. He knew humans had marriages, calling themselves _husbands_ and _wives_ – but how that was different from the selkies' concept of mates, he didn't know. Nor did he know the process of getting there, or whether two males ever could.

"Spit it out," Bakugou said, and Kirishima jumped.

"What?"

"You look like you're thinking really hard about something. You should just say it."

Kirishima looked at him. Bakugou had a funny little half-smile on his face, curious and teasing all at once. Kirishima wondered what his own face looked like at that moment. He debated whether or not to tell Bakugou what he'd been thinking about, but after a moment he decided against it. It was better, Kirishima felt, to find out a different way, from one of the others. He couldn't say precisely why he felt this, but there was a risk Bakugou would find out why he was asking those things, and laugh at him, or, worse, be repulsed by him. This idea made Kirishima's stomach twist with displeasure.

Ever since his conversation with Bakugou about Midoriya – the one just before he'd swum away – he'd pictured Bakugou talking about him that way. _I can't believe you thought he was special to me… Not at all. Exactly the opposite_. While Kirishima knew Bakugou viewed him favorably _now,_ he had no idea how quickly that could change. If Kirishima followed Bakugou around too much, if he demanded too much of his time or did something that struck Bakugou as pathetic, would his positive opinion of Kirishima turn negative?

So Kirishima decided it was best to keep a little of himself hidden for the time being, at least until he found out more information. He wasn't sure how much of his affection he could reveal – apparently he hadn't crossed that threshold yet – but the fact remained that now Kirishima knew Bakugou had the capacity for hate, and he had to be a little more careful because of it.

"It's nothing," Kirishima said aloud. "Don't worry about it."

Bakugou made a snort, turned back to the fire, and said nothing more.

xxxxxx

Out of the two of them, Kirishima decided to ask Midoriya his questions about human behavior. It wasn't anything against Todoroki, just that he knew Midoriya would talk more and probably be more willing to do it.

Although, of course, that also raised the question of _when_ to do it. He had begun thinking of ways to get Midoriya alone without Bakugou realizing it, which would be difficult; he and Bakugou spent almost every waking moment together. He got a lucky break later that day, though, when Bakugou, nearly falling asleep on his feet, decided to take a nap.

"It got too cold last night," he said. "I couldn't sleep."

"It's fine," Kirishima reassured him, and made sure Bakugou was actually asleep before finding Midoriya. He didn't want Bakugou to suddenly change his mind and overhear and make the whole thing pointless.

He found both of the other boys in Midoriya's house, slicing vegetables. "Midoriya," he said, as soon as he entered. "Can I talk to you?"

"Sure," he said, not moving from his place in the kitchen.

Kirishima hesitated a moment, looking between the two of them; as he turned his gaze to Todoroki, their eyes met, but Kirishima looked away after a second. There was no reason not to ask them both, he reasoned. He didn't distrust Todoroki, who'd confided a very interesting secret in him anyway.

"I've been curious about humans lately," Kirishima said, sitting down on a chair and watching their quick, deft movements, listening to the steady _chop-chop-chop_ of knives through vegetable matter. "Back when we were living by the ocean, I told Bakugou a lot about selkies, but he didn't tell me nearly as much about humans."

"Why don't you ask him now?" Midoriya said.

Kirishima looked at him, then looked away. "I don't…" _I don't want him to think of me the way he thinks of you –_ that was what he meant, but he didn't know how to phrase it so he didn't offend Midoriya. "I don't want to annoy him," Kirishima eventually settled on.

"I don't think you'll annoy him," Midoriya said. "But I don't mind answering your questions!"

"And I can tell you about selkies, if you want."

Midoriya shot him a grin before looking down at the cutting board again. "You know I do."

That was how Kirishima learned about human society. He first asked about the things that were bothering him most urgently, namely romance and courtship and marriage, but he was intrigued enough to keep asking questions even after his initial ones were all answered. He learned about human families, how couples stayed together much longer than selkie couples did, and children lived at home much longer than was strictly necessary for survival. It all sounded… nice.

"Instead of a man and a woman, can two men be a couple?" Kirishima asked, once he'd worked up the courage. He knew the question was probably giving a lot away, but he trusted Midoriya and Todoroki not to use that information against him.

"No," Midoriya said, at the same instant Todoroki said "Yes."

They turned to look at each other.

"It can happen," Todoroki said, after a pause. It was the first time he'd spoken up that conversation. "It's not common, but I've seen it."

"Oh," Midoriya said, looking first surprised, then thoughtful.

"And it's – you have to be careful," Todoroki went on. "Because, while some people don't care, others do. Most do. It's not generally done, and it's safer to keep it a secret. Most people like that pretend to be two friends living together, instead of a couple."

"Why do people care?" Kirishima asked.

Todoroki shrugged and said "I don't know" in a way that suggested the answer was complicated, too many words to explain without going into something much beyond the casual scope of the conversation. Kirishima understood that well enough and left it alone. There were things like this for selkies, too, after all – things that just weren't done, not for any real logical reason, but just because selkies decided a long time ago that it was better that way.

Kirishima knew about sex, because although he'd never had it, having never had a mate before, he still knew the mechanics of it; although they gave birth in their seal form, selkies mated in their human form, so the way they had sex was probably similar to how humans did it. So when Kirishima asked "What do human couples do – physically?" that wasn't what he meant, although it was funny to watch Midoriya turn beet-red and sputter something incoherent in reply.

Kirishima let him suffer for a second or two before interrupting him with a shake of his head. "No, I don't mean sex," he said, and Midoriya made another little noise at the word. "I mean, is it normal for them to touch each other more than friends do? Is it common for them to sleep in the same bed?"

" _Oh,_ " Midoriya said, breathlessly relieved, "oh, I see what you mean." Next to him, Todoroki was smirking. Both of them had set their knives down, the chore forgotten. "Yes! Yes, human couples do those sorts of things commonly. Holding hands, kissing, sleeping in the same bed, one person putting an arm around the other when they sit side by side… those sorts of casual touches are all common for couples."

Kirishima nodded, pleased with this information. It made a little more sense now, his desire to touch Bakugou. He was glad that sort of physical contact was common for human couples. It was for selkie couples too – except kissing, which was much more of a human thing – but only between established mates, a relationship that rarely lasted more than a season. The idea that human couples stayed together for years and continued all those behaviors made him happy to hear.

"What is it like for selkies?" Midoriya asked, and Kirishima found himself explaining all of this to the two of them. Midoriya was interested, as Kirishima knew he'd be, but to his surprise Todoroki also watched and listened carefully, never taking his eyes off Kirishima's face as he spoke. Midoriya interrupted sometimes with additional questions, but Todoroki stayed silent, face impassive and unreadable.

They'd been together in the house for maybe an hour, no more than two, when the door swung open and Bakugou entered. "Have you seen –" he began, and stopped when he saw the three of them together. Midoriya picked up his knife and began chopping again.

"Oh hi," Kirishima said, smiling. "Did you sleep well?"

Bakugou grunted. He had a line on his face from the pillow, and Kirishima found he had the strange impulse to run his hand across it and feel the impression in Bakugou's skin.

"What are you three chatting about?" Bakugou said, sitting heavily on one of the chairs at the kitchen table.

"I was just telling them about selkie life," Kirishima said, glad he didn't have to lie.

"It's very interesting," Midoriya said, his eyes focused on the vegetables in front of him. _Chop-chop-chop_ went the knife again, as if Midoriya had never paused in his task. "Until I met Kirishima, I never even knew selkies existed. I'm glad I get to learn all about them."

He lifted his head and smiled and Kirishima, and Kirishima smiled back. The nice thing about Midoriya – something that was also true about Bakugou – was that he was a terrible liar. From the short time he'd known Midoriya, Kirishima had learned that while he _did_ lie, it was usually pretty easy to see through. And he really did find Kirishima's stories about selkies and selkie life interesting, which made Kirishima instantly more at ease around him. Todoroki, though, was more or less unreadable, although it was probably a good sign that he'd found Kirishima's words more interesting than chopping vegetables.

"I see," Bakugou said. He sounded grumpy, but the words were free of bite.

"But now that you're awake," Kirishima said, rising from the chair, "we can do something together. Will you come with me to the river?"

"Yeah, sure," Bakugou said, getting to his feet as well, and following Kirishima out of the house.

Kirishima wasn't exactly sure why he'd chosen to go to the river. He felt at home in the water, of course, and enjoyed swimming, no matter which form he was in. But Bakugou would not (could not) swim with him. Really, there was no need for Bakugou to be there besides Kirishima's desire to be close to him.

Bakugou didn't question it, though. He sat down on the riverbank, crossing his legs and leaning back on his hands. Kirishima stripped off his clothing and laid them next to Bakugou, then, after a moment's thought, laid his sealskin down too.

He stepped into the water, feeling the cold more acutely in his human form but still liking it. The riverbank was steep; one could not wade in slowly as in the ocean. Even at its shallowest point it was up to his hips, and the shock of the temperature change sent a thrill through his body.

"How are you not freezing?" Bakugou asked, frowning.

"It feels nice!"

"I don't believe you," Bakugou said. "Weirdo."

Kirishima stuck his tongue out at him, then slid beneath the water. Human-form swimming was clumsier than seal-form, of course, and he had less practice at it, but it was still enjoyable. When he let the current take him away, it took effort to swim back; he got tired more quickly.

When he was ready to get out, Bakugou offered him his arm and helped hoist him out of the water. Kirishima narrowly missed landing on his clothing and on Bakugou, and lay, laughing and shivering a little, on the bank. "Don't drip on me," Bakugou growled, and Kirishima was tempted to do just that, but resisted. The point of this was to _not_ drive Bakugou away, after all.

Kirishima lay on his back, letting the sun and the wind dry his skin. Bakugou was still facing the direction of the river, but Kirishima noticed he'd turned his head slightly; he was focusing on Kirishima in his peripheral vision. Kirishima ran through a series of questions he wanted to ask but didn't have the courage to. _Do you like being around me? How long do you think you'll want to stay with me?_ Most frighteningly – _Do you feel for me what I feel for you?_

If he had been alone, he might have fallen asleep there on the grass in the sun, but, as it was, he was constantly aware of Bakugou's proximity to him. Kirishima's head was not far from Bakugou's thigh, and if he wanted to, he could reach out and touch the other boy.

He did want to.

So, in a way he knew was incredibly unsubtle – yet he could think of no better plan – Kirishima yawned deeply and stretched his arms above his head. Bakugou was still leaning back with his weight on his hands, which were behind him in the grass; Kirishima's arm came up very near one of them, near enough that their hands were almost touching. And then Kirishima, in a moment of braveness that made his heart beat wildly in his chest, reached his hand a little further and let it rest _on_ Bakugou's, the backs of their hands brushing gently.

Bakugou turned his head to stare. Kirishima knew he looked probably quite odd: his arms stretched out over his head, the skin and muscles on his chest pulled taut by the position he lay in, his body naked (although Bakugou was surely used to it by now). But it was the point of contact that Bakugou turned to stare at, the place where their hands were ever so gently connected, the cold of Kirishima's skin and the sunny warmth of Bakugou's.

Bakugou looked at their hands, and didn't move. His eyes slid down, down Kirishima's outstretched arm, until they rested on his face. He gazed into Kirishima's eyes, and Kirishima gazed into his.

That moment was the most frightening and intimate of Kirishima's life. The way Bakugou turned, the way he met Kirishima's eyes: Kirishima was instantly aware that _Bakugou knew everything._ Kirishima's intentions were laid bare; Bakugou had instantly seen through his pitiful attempt to be casual.

Kirishima felt the entire world narrow to just them – just their points of contact, really: hand meeting hand and eyes meeting eyes. He was hyperaware of his heart, beating so loudly it was all he heard. And he felt Bakugou extract his hand from beneath Kirishima's – and place it, gently, on top.

Without even meaning to, Kirishima had asked a question, and instantly he knew this was his answer. He felt his face flush, his throat tightening with joy. Thrumming with energy, unable to stay lying down any longer, Kirishima sat up, crossing his legs and facing Bakugou. As soon as they weren't touching any longer, Bakugou lifted his hands and put them in his lap, shifting to face Kirishima as well.

"Bakugou," Kirishima breathed. He didn't know his body could contain so much nervous energy. He felt he could jump out of his skin.

Bakugou said nothing, but their eyes were locked again, and Kirishima could see the intensity he felt mirrored in the other boy's face. Bakugou's eyes were dark, the irises almost completely swallowed by the pupils.

Then Kirishima finally worked up the courage to ask the question he'd wanted to ask almost since there first day on the beach together: "Can I touch you?"

At that, Bakugou colored completely crimson, not just his face but neck and chest too, and turned his head to the side, muttering something Kirishima didn't catch.

"What did you say?"

"I said, _if you want_ ," Bakugou said, his tone a valiant attempt at anger that, Kirishima knew, was really just embarrassment and surprise.

Kirishima _did_ want. He wanted very much. He only allowed himself to be paralyzed for a moment; then he willed his body to work, and it stuttered back to life. There was so much of Bakugou he wanted to touch, and he'd finally gotten permission.

First he brought a hand up to Bakugou's face, which was, of course, the best part; Bakugou was beautifully expressive, and his skin looked so soft. Kirishima rested his palm on Bakugou's cheek. Bakugou didn't shut his eyes; the continued eye contact made everything that much more intense. Kirishima knew Bakugou was watching him, was giving him the entirety of his attention.

Kirishima slid his hand further and ruffled through his hair. It was getting long, and the fine strands were tangled somewhat by the wind, but Kirishima kept his touch gentle so as not to pull. Then he brought his hand down, along the side of Bakugou's neck, to rest at the place where neck met shoulder. He could actually feel Bakugou's pulse here, going just as fast as Kirishima's own.

To touch with a hand wasn't enough: Kirishima leaned forward where he sat and pressed his face to the skin of Bakugou's throat, inhaling. The smell was so good it made him dizzy – nothing but _Bakugou_ , pure and concentrated: human, earthy and musky and warm, the best thing Kirishima had ever smelled.

"Bakugou," he murmured, feeling the warmth of his own breath echoing back against Bakugou's skin, feeling the boy shiver beneath him and press himself up towards the contact, an unspoken plea for more _._

It was almost too much, and for a moment Kirishima couldn't move. Then he felt Bakugou's hand, gentle on the back of his neck, leading, pulling his head up. Kirishima mourned the loss of the physical closeness for only a second, because then Bakugou was guiding their faces together. Kirishima closed his eyes at the last second, and then their lips touched: it was soft, almost polite. _A kiss_ , Kirishima thought, simultaneously out of his mind with excitement and overwhelmed by the intensity of everything that was occurring.

After the kiss, they both moved their faces apart. Kirishima opened his eyes: Bakugou's gaze was focused intently on his face, looking it up and down. _He's nervous_ , Kirishima thought, startled that he hadn't made the realization earlier. It gave him courage. Maybe he wasn't the only one making his way through completely new territory here.

Not sure how he'd felt about the first kiss, Kirishima decided to do it again. He put his hand on the back of Bakugou's neck the same way Bakugou had done to his, and this time he was the one to pull them together; but he pulled too hard, or moved his own head too fast, and their mouths bumped painfully.

Bakugou made a hiss of surprise, and Kirishima pulled back, alarmed. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Bakugou said, his cheeks still flushed, his lips parted slightly, and it was enough of an invitation for Kirishima to lean forward – more slowly this time, without a hand on Bakugou's neck – and try again. It worked better, although at first the angle was awkward, the kiss a little dry. Then Bakugou did something with his mouth that felt good, and Kirishima did the same thing, and all of a sudden the entire thing felt more natural, like they'd figured out how it was supposed to be done. Kirishima realized that not only was he smelling Bakugou, he was _tasting_ him too. The thought made his body grow suddenly much warmer than could be explained by the temperature of the air.

Kirishima broke apart from the kiss after a minute or so. Bakugou wanted to keep the kiss going, Kirishima thought, but his own curiosity was not yet satisfied. Kissing was nice, of course, but he didn't want to focus too much on just Bakugou's mouth when there was so much more of him to explore.

He started with the rest of Bakugou's face, putting his nose and mouth right up against the skin and breathing in, planting tiny delicate kisses on the skin of Bakugou's cheeks, his jawline, his throat. Bakugou's skin was hot and smooth, and Kirishima worked his way down his neck, noticing for the first time the different textures – the convex shape of his Adam's apple, the sharp lines of his collarbones. Bakugou was wearing clothing, unfortunately, which stopped Kirishima from going any lower. His hands came up to work at the buttons, when all of a sudden he felt Bakugou grip him by the wrists, holding him fast.

Kirishima pulled away, questioning, and their eyes met again. Bakugou looked… well, he looked flushed still, and he was breathing fast, but his eyes were open wide as if in surprise. He looked – alarmed?

"Should I stop?" Kirishima asked, heart in his throat.

Bakugou took several slow, deep breaths, like he was trying to calm himself down. "I don't know," he said, turning his gaze down and to the side. His voice was so quiet as to be almost inaudible – would have been, in fact, except for how close Kirishima was still sitting. "I've never done anything like this before."

"Me neither," Kirishima said, although he knew it was probably obvious. "But I like it. I've wanted to do this for so long."

"Idiot," Bakugou said, in that grumbly, affectionate way Kirishima loved. "How can you say things like that out loud?"

"Should I not?"

"No – it's – I just don't understand how you don't feel _embarrassed_."

"I don't know how you _do_ ," Kirishima said, grinning now that he knew Bakugou's hesitation didn't mean displeasure. "What is there to be embarrassed about?"

That seemed to render Bakugou wordless. He shook his head, eyes shut, and then reached forward to pull Kirishima close, burying his face in Kirishima's bare shoulder.

They held each other like that for a while, Kirishima's fluttering heartbeat slowing down gradually as time passed. He wanted everything all at once, but he forced himself to remain still. There would be time enough for everything. It was fine to rest here in the sun with Bakugou, and savor the shape of his body, warm and solid in Kirishima's arms.


	13. Part 2, Chapter 8

"Well, _that_ was interesting," Midoriya said, as soon as Kirishima and Bakugou had left.

Todoroki nodded and, a little reluctantly, picked up the knife to resume chopping vegetables.

"I like Kirishima," Midoriya went on, speaking a little loudly over the sound of his knife. "I'm glad he's here."

There was a point to this conversation, Todoroki knew. He didn't know what it was yet, and maybe Midoriya didn't know either, but he would talk his way there; Todoroki had learned that about him. Todoroki himself thought his words through very carefully, coming to conclusions on his own, but Midoriya needed someone else to help him parse his thoughts.

So Todoroki said nothing, just made a little hum of acknowledgement, and Midoriya went on. "It's so interesting, learning about selkies. I find myself very fascinated by everything Kirishima says about them. And to think that he's just as ignorant about humans – it's almost unbelievable to me that two species can live side by side for so long without knowing much about the other at all."

Todoroki nodded and watched Midoriya out of the corner of his eye, noticing he'd gotten distracted again and had set down his knife. Todoroki, only too happy for a chance to pause the chore as well, copied him.

"Of course," Midoriya went on, "Kirishima did know some things about humans, but I didn't know selkies even existed." He paused, hand rubbing his chin idly. "Because they live by the ocean. All selkies live by the ocean."

"All selkies except Kirishima," Todoroki said, beginning to see where this might be headed.

"But for how long?" Midoriya turned to face him. "When do you think Kirishima will go back to the ocean? And what will we do when he does?"

 _When_ , not _if_. Todoroki had known their time together was limited, but he tried not to think about it. He was actually enjoying himself; he didn't want this to end, didn't want their group of four to get any smaller. "You want to stay in the village," he said, "in case there are more survivors." There was a hint of an unspoken question there: _Right?_

"Yes," Midoriya said, slowly, unsure himself. "Yes, but." He paused, thinking, one finger tracing up and down the hilt of the knife. "But I can't do this forever. I can't live here forever."

"No?"

"No." Midoriya shook his head. "I can't live here, surrounded by all these empty, burned-out houses, because I can't help but think of how things used to be. I need more, I need to be surrounded by people again, I need…" With a shock Todoroki realized Midoriya was beginning to cry. He had to resist the urge to step forward and comfort him. "There's no point to me living here if no one else comes back. I don't know where I can go, what I can do – Bakugou has Kirishima and they can go back to the ocean whenever they want, but I don't have anyone or anywhere –"

Giving in to the impulse at last, Todoroki stepped forward and put his arms around him. Midoriya hadn't been expecting it, and tensed for a moment, then relaxed, exhaling slowly. "I'm fine," he murmured, somewhere in the vicinity of Todoroki's collarbone. "Really, I'm fine, you don't have to do this."

"I want to help you." It didn't quite come out as affectionate as he'd wanted – Todoroki always felt his voice was flat and monotone, no matter what he did to try and fix it – but at least he'd finally said aloud what he'd been thinking this whole time. Midoriya put his arms around him and rubbed his back, and Todoroki honestly wasn't sure who was comforting whom. It was nice, though, to be next to him, close to him. Unsure of how long a hug was socially acceptable, Todoroki stepped away after only a moment.

"You do help me," Midoriya said, blinking tears away, once they stood apart again. "You help me by being here."

"Good."

"I know it's only temporary. I've known from the beginning. You never pretended you'd be here forever," Midoriya went on. "And I know the others won't be here forever, either. When everyone's gone, I'll leave too. I don't know what I'll do, but I don't think I can stay here much longer, and I certainly can't stay here alone."

Todoroki wished the subject of his own departure had not been brought up. He was in a very different situation from Midoriya, of course, but it wasn't as if he was eager to leave; he was lonely too, and he did not look forward to more solitary traveling. Yet he didn't want to make any promises, not now, not when he didn't know how safe he was. He wrinkled his brow, thinking, and Midoriya watched him wordlessly, apparently content to wait for his reply.

"I told you what I'm running from," Todoroki said at last. "So you know the danger I'm put in, if I stay in any one place for too long."

Midoriya nodded.

"But still, I'm in no hurry to leave," Todoroki said. He met the other boy's eyes, wanting him to realize how much he meant these words. "You're right that it won't be forever, but I'll stay as long as I feel I can without putting you in danger or risking my freedom. I'll stay until I have to go."

Apparently that was the right thing to say, because Midoriya's face broke into a wide grin, and he took a step towards Todoroki in a way that seemed involuntarily. "Thank you," he said, and it almost looked like he was going to cry again, this time with joy. "That means –" He paused and cleared his throat. "Todoroki, if you feel you need to leave, let me know. I'll come with you."

Todoroki blinked, surprised. "You would leave your village? Bakugou and Kirishima?"

"I already told you that I want to leave this place someday," Midoriya said, his tone serious now. "If you left I don't think I could bear to stay any longer. And the others, well – I know Bakugou well enough to understand that the more I try to make him do anything, the more he'll do the opposite. He'll take off the second he realizes how much I want him to stay, and even Kirishima wouldn't be able to keep him here." Todoroki felt it difficult to continue to meet Midoriya's gaze, the intensity in his expression was so strong. "In a way you're the only thing I have that I can rely on. I would follow you even if it meant leaving everything else."

It was startling, the effect those words had on Todoroki. They were exciting, and his heart beat faster because of it; but they also carried a weight, which he could almost physically feel settle on his chest and shoulders. He wanted badly to be with Midoriya even beyond the confines of the burned-out village, but doing so would make him responsible for both of them, not only himself. Wasn't this kind of responsibility part of why he'd left?

 _No_ , he told himself. No, this was a responsibility he was taking on himself, of his own free will. It was the responsibility of looking after someone he cared about and ensuring their well-being – not too different from the responsibility everyone carried at some point in their lives.

"I'll tell you when it happens, then," he said. Midoriya shot him a small, almost bashful smile, and they picked up their knives and continued making dinner.

xxxxxx

xxxxxx

After what had happened at the river, it hardly seemed possible for Kirishima to go through the rest of his day like it was any other. He felt light on his feet; everything made him laugh and grin. But he knew he couldn't spend the rest of the day (or week, or year) in a giddy haze, lying side by side with Bakugou, even if there was nothing he would rather do.

Eventually the two of them split apart and sat up. Kirishima thought he might have dozed off for a bit, although he wasn't sure: the sun was lower than he'd expected it to be, but time might have simply flown. Bakugou, for his part, was trying valiantly to keep a calm, stoic face, but whenever their eyes met he looked away first, blushing pink.

"Dinner will probably be ready soon," Kirishima said, the first words they'd spoken to each other in a long time, an hour at least. "You're probably hungry. Should we head back?"

"I –" Bakugou met his gaze, blinked, looked down. _He's still embarrassed,_ Kirishima thought. He wondered if it would ever pass, although to be completely honest he was beginning to grow fond of it. "Yeah," Bakugou said at last. "Sure."

Once they got back to Midoriya's house, the four of them ate in near total silence, although the others seemed to be in good moods – particularly Midoriya, who shot Kirishima a sly smile when Bakugou wasn't looking. Apparently Kirishima hadn't been at all subtle with his questions to them earlier. He hoped Midoriya would never give Bakugou any reason to suspect he knew, or Bakugou would never show his face again.

They were all quiet after dinner too. Midoriya and Todoroki kept exchanging glances; Kirishima got the feeling they wanted to discuss something private. So he stood and stretched, smiling, and said, "Thank you for the meal. It was delicious, as always."

"Anytime!" Midoriya said, beaming.

When Kirishima moved to get up, Bakugou did too, of course. Kirishima could now see things in a different light: he had never been sure how much Bakugou actually enjoyed his company and how much he just preferred it to being alone or being with the others, but after what had happened earlier that afternoon, Kirishima could say that Bakugou certainly did like him. And that felt _good._

"We'll need more firewood tomorrow," Bakugou said, when they were back inside their own house. The sun had just dipped below the horizon, and it was chilly, though still warmer in their house than outside. "The others are almost out too."

Kirishima nodded. There had been a large pile of firewood, apparently communal, left over from the others in the village. Midoriya had moved most of it into his own house for his convenience, but it was finally running out. "You can show me how to chop wood tomorrow."

"Sure." Bakugou knelt down to start the fire. "I think we might have just enough to last the night. Could be close, though." He shivered, as if even the thought of running out made him colder.

An idea occurred to Kirishima all of a sudden. His gaze flicked around the room, calculating, measuring; after a moment's hesitation, he spoke. "There's something else we could do to stay warm."

Bakugou turned bright red and narrowed his eyes. Kirishima thought he might have been trying not to laugh. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, _you_ know." Kirishima grinned. He was able to laugh at himself, at least. Maybe someday he'd master the very human art of hints and innuendos. "We can share the bed, if you want."

"I thought you said before…" Bakugou looked between Kirishima and the bed, maybe trying to decide whether he was being teased. "You said before that you'd rather sleep on the floor."

"I changed my mind." Kirishima sat on the edge of the bed, testing the give with his hands. Yes, it would be better than the floor, provided they could both fit without one of them falling out. "Do you remember the night we stayed at the inn?"

"Yeah…"

"It was hard sharing a bed with you then," Kirishima said, thinking back. It seemed ages ago now, although it had been only a few weeks. "It was hard being so close to you, wanting so badly to touch you and holding myself back. Hiding how I felt, hiding how much I wanted you…"

Bakugou was looking at him now in a way that Kirishima had never been looked at before. His pupils were so dilated they swallowed the iris; his gaze was direct, focused, and much more confident than it had been earlier that day at the river.

Slowly Bakugou rose from where he'd been kneeling next to the fireplace and made his way over to the bed. He stopped just in front of Kirishima, who could only stare up in wonder and curious expectation. He had no idea what Bakugou might do next, but as long as he knew his affections were welcomed and returned, anything that happened now was fine.

Bakugou closed the space between them and straddled Kirishima's body, knees on the outside of Kirishima's thighs. It was overwhelming and intimate and _glorious_. Bakugou's chest was at about face level, but he leaned down to rest his forehead against Kirishima's. For a few seconds they stayed like that, breathing each other's air and staring into each other's eyes, when finally Bakugou said: "So _touch_ me then."

Kirishima exhaled sharply and did as he'd been told without hesitation. His hands stroked up and down Bakugou's torso, gentle, questioning, just getting to know the shape of him, the curve of his ribcage and stomach. Bakugou said nothing, but his breath was fast and hot on Kirishima's face and he seemed to arch his body further into the touch.

After a few moments of this Kirishima worked up the courage to slide his hands under Bakugou's shirt. "Is this okay?" he asked, hoping desperately it was, because it wouldn't be any fun to stop _now_.

"Yeah," Bakugou said, the word coming out as a growl.

Kirishima had never felt anything quite like that skin-on-skin contact before. He could have stayed like that for hours and hours, simply feeling Bakugou's body beneath his hands. He suspected Bakugou would have let him, because his breathing was quick and shallow, but not out of anxiety; Kirishima could tell Bakugou was thrumming with the same excited heat that he himself was.

After a little while of that, Bakugou removed his shirt, and Kirishima could now see _and_ touch. He wanted to memorize everything – the visible muscles in Bakugou's chest, the tan lines on his neck and arms, the hard line of his collarbone. Kirishima had seen it all before in their days by the ocean but to be given permission to study and touch it was something he had never dared to hope for before that day.

Bakugou bent his head down and pressed his lips to Kirishima's, and they kissed again, all the while Kirishima's hands roamed up and down Bakugou's body. It was almost a shame that he could no longer look at what he touched, but this was nice too – he could get used to this. The air was cold, but Bakugou's chest and back and mouth were warm beneath Kirishima's touch. (Even if they weren't – even if they'd been clammy and cold – Kirishima would have been happy to touch them, because they were Bakugou's.)

Suddenly Bakugou pulled away, breathing hard, and slid himself off Kirishima's lap. He threw his shirt back on, took a quick drink of water, and sat down on the bed, no longer touching Kirishima. "Getting sleepy," he said, by way of explanation. Kirishima wasn't sure this was actually true, but he was afraid to protest, knowing that to push Bakugou would only make him pull away.

Still, the ending had been so abrupt it gave him a need to confirm. "Is anything wrong?" he said carefully, trying to keep his tone blank.

"Nah. Nothing wrong."

Kirishima didn't think _that_ was a lie, which came as a great relief. He could hardly imagine anything worse than making Bakugou feel uncomfortable without even realizing it. Whatever was going on inside Bakugou's head at that moment, whatever had caused him to pull away from the kiss and settle in for bed, was not enough to make him upset – and, probably (hopefully) was not even Kirishima's fault to begin with.

Kirishima lay down on the bed too, facing Bakugou, and threw the blankets over them both. He wasn't sure how easily he'd be able to sleep after all that had just happened, but there wasn't any use to staying up if Bakugou wasn't with him.

Not long after, Bakugou shut his eyes, and Kirishima thought he'd fallen asleep. But a few minutes later, Kirishima felt his hand taken and gently held between Bakugou's own.

"This is okay," Bakugou said, his voice a little muffle from sleepiness and the blanket that half covered his face. "Don't… don't be afraid to do this. You can do this anytime."

"Oh," Kirishima said, sliding his free hand over to touch Bakugou's too. "Good. Thank you."

"Don't _thank me_ , weirdo," Bakugou muttered. Then, after a pause: "'Night."

"Goodnight," Kirishima said, glad the fire was behind him – it cast enough light for him to still see Bakugou's face, relaxed and sleepy. He stayed like that for a long time, his hands resting on Bakugou's, watching him, breathing in the scent of him, happy to hold his hand as he fell asleep.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I'm sorry this chapter is shorter and that it took longer than normal to update. I honestly don't know where I'm going with this.

If you want to talk about this story/writing in general with me, please feel free to shoot me a message!


	14. Part 2, Chapter 9

Several days later, Kirishima woke up before dawn, his heart pounding.

People were outside their house. Strangers.

 _It could just be travelers_ , Kirishima told himself. He himself had been a stranger to Midoriya and Todoroki, once upon a time. The day he came, they might have been frozen in terror the same way, not knowing whether he was innocent or one of the village's attackers.

Bakugou was still asleep beside him. Kirishima put a hand lightly on his mouth and shook him awake, feeling him jolt and try to mutter some half-formed question, bleary-eyed with sleep.

"Shh," Kirishima said. "Listen."

They caught the end of a sentence: "…did this?"

"Who knows." There were two men, Kirishima thought. Or more, but only two were speaking. "Doesn't matter. Looks abandoned."

"Not all of it. Look here." It sounded like they were just outside the house's door. "See, the roof's been patched, and there's boards nailed over the burned stuff. That's got to be new."

Kirishima threw on his clothing, leaving his feet bare, and stepped towards the door. Bakugou shot him a wild-eyed look, but Kirishima ignored it: it sounded like the men were coming to the door anyways, and it was best not to be caught unawares.

"And all these sheep all around," the man went on. "Probably there's at least one person here."

"Alright, I get the idea. So knock."

Kirishima opened the door and stepped outside just after those words were spoken, not wanting to draw out the inevitable.

There were two humans, adult men. Both had horses, but they were not riding them at the moment; each held his horse's harness in one hand. They froze when Kirishima stepped outside, and took a step back in surprise.

"Hello," Kirishima said, smiling at them without showing his teeth. "Can I help you? Are you travelers?"

"Well – yes." One man seemed a little older, and he was the one who spoke first. "We're looking for someone, actually." He stepped back towards his horse, reaching into the pack strapped to its back.

"How did this village – I mean, what happened?" the younger man said, gesturing to the blackened buildings.

"It was some weeks ago," Kirishima said. "A group of men on horseback came. I'm a shepherd, so I was grazing my sheep away from the village." He tried to paraphrase what he'd heard Midoriya and Bakugou say. "I came back when I saw smoke, but they were already gone. Everyone in the village was either dead or missing." He pointed towards the hill that hid the pyre. "I burned their bodies back there."

"I know," the younger man said, his voice gentle. "We saw. I'm sorry. Do you know who…?"

Kirishima shook his head. "I didn't see them. They were already gone when I returned. I just saw them from a distance."

"Here," the older man said, opening a scroll. "We're looking for this person."

There was writing on the top and bottom of the scroll that Kirishima couldn't read, but in the middle there was a drawing of a face that immediately caught his attention. It was _clearly_ Todoroki: even if there had been no details at all, how many boys were running around with two-colored hair and two-colored eyes?

But Kirishima looked at it a second longer and forced himself to be calm. How might he react if he had never met Todoroki? What would he say to these men? "He has strange hair," Kirishima said at last. "Who is he?"

"His name is Todoroki Shouto," the older man said, holding the parchment steady and letting Kirishima continue to look. "He's about your age, and he's missing. Have you seen any travelers pass through here that look like this?"

"No," Kirishima said, looking up at last and meeting each of the men's eyes in turn. "No, I think I'd remember it if I'd seen anyone with hair like that."

"Anyone at all suspicious? Anyone with their hair covered or shaved?"

"No one has passed through here since the attack," Kirishima said firmly. It wasn't a lie: the only people who'd come that he knew of had stayed, not passed through.

The men looked at him a moment later, then both nodded at nearly the same time. "Very well," the older one said, rolling up the scroll. "If you do see this person, _do not confront him_. He is considered dangerous and should be avoided if possible. As soon as possible afterwards, please inform the nearest Royal Army soldier. That's all – the rest will be taken care of afterwards."

"Where's the nearest Royal Army soldier?"

The man looked at him sharply, eyes narrowed. "In Broadstem, of course."

Kirishima realized he'd probably said something stupid. He nodded vigorously. "Oh good," he said, "I'm glad he's still there. I haven't been to Broadstem since my village was attacked, and I didn't know if it was attacked too."

That seemed to make things better; the man visibly relaxed. "Broadstem wasn't attacked, no," he said. "You really haven't been there since?"

"I was afraid to travel."

The man grunted. "Understandable. But it's safer now. We hardly see anyone on the roads these days, and everyone seems to be minding their own business."

"Okay," Kirishima said, cautious. "I'll go out there soon."

The younger man was now fishing in _his_ bag for something, and Kirishima wished there was something he could do to speed them along. Surely they wouldn't want to stay much longer, would they? What if they wanted to rest for a while? Kirishima didn't dare look towards the other house, but he hoped desperately that Todoroki wouldn't step out unknowingly.

The younger man stepped towards him, something in his hand. It was a coin, Kirishima saw. "It isn't much, but I want you to have this," the man said.

"I don't need it." Kirishima knew he could not take this man's money without guilt – not when he had so much of his own to spare. "I have enough of everything I need. Thank you, truly, but –"

"How can you live like this?" the man said, and Kirishima actually felt his pain – he seemed so touched, so sad. "Go to Broadstem, get out of here. How will you last through the winter alone?"

"I'll find a way," Kirishima said, hoping his tone was firm without being pushy. "I've got the sheep. The house is warm enough. Look," he said, stepping back, "keep your money, please. I appreciate it, but I don't need it."

The older man nudged the younger one. "Just listen to him. If the boy doesn't want it, he doesn't want it."

"Fine," the young man said, tucking it back into his back with a scowl. "But take care of yourself, alright?"

"You're too soft," the older man said, and they stepped away together, leading their horses behind them.

Kirishima watched them go, feeling like he was finally able to breathe again, when all of a sudden the younger man stopped and turned back to look at Kirishima. "This house is fixed up too," he said. "Is there someone else in the town?"

"Yes." Kirishima walked over slowly, buying time as he thought of a response. "Another shepherd survived as well." He lowered his voice to a half-whisper. "I didn't want to disturb him – he hasn't quite been right since the attack… Do you want me to wake him up so you can tell him too?"

The men looked at one another, and the elder shrugged; for a second, Kirishima was sure he'd be safe. But the younger one, apparently still suspicious, turned to Kirishima and said, "Sure, would you please? Ask him to come out so we can explain everything to you."

Kirishima inwardly cursed his bad luck but nodded, keeping his face blank as he approached Midoriya's house. He opened the door, careful to position his body between the opening and the strangers, and stuck his head in.

They were both awake already, of course. Todoroki was fully dressed and stood next to the door, looking like he was ready to attack. Midoriya was next to him, his eyes wide, breathing shallowly. They reminded Kirishima of cornered animals; they were only a moment away from fight-or-flight mode.

"Midoriya! Glad you're awake," Kirishima said loudly. "Don't be scared. The travelers want to talk to you about something. Will you come out?" He mouthed "It's okay" to him, but he wasn't sure if Midoriya picked up on it.

"Sure," Midoriya said, throwing his shoes on. But he forgot a coat, and began shivering as soon as they stepped outside.

"Hello," the younger stranger said, motioning for the elder to unroll the scroll again. "We're looking for someone and we're wondering if you've seen anyone who looks like this."

"Or anyone in general," the older man added, and showed them the picture.

Kirishima looked at Midoriya's face as he surveyed the scroll: distrust and fear; it was probably glaringly obvious that he wanted nothing more than to flee. "No," Midoriya said, biting his lip, "never seen anyone like this here! 'Todoroki Shouto,' huh? Is that someone important?"

"Yes," the older man said simply, rolling the scroll up. "And dangerous." He repeated that speech about informing the Royal Army, and luckily Midoriya asked no more questions, just nodded and assured the men of course he'd tell if that boy ever came through.

Kirishima and Midoriya stood on the road and watched the men get on their horses and ride until the men were finally, _finally_ out of sight. Then, just to be safe, they waited another minute or two, straining to listen to the hoofbeats as they faded away. Midoriya was gripping Kirishima's arm tight enough to hurt, so tight it almost cut off the blood flow.

After several minutes and no more sign of the men, Midoriya turned to Kirishima. "Bring Bakugou and come into my house," he said. "I think we all need talk about this."

When Kirishima entered his own house, Bakugou surged to him, so quickly Kirishima was afraid for a moment that he'd been mistaken for an attacker. "What the hell was that?" Bakugou said, his voice still low. "Who were those guys?"

"They're gone," Kirishima said. "They were, I don't know who they were, but they were looking for Todoroki."

He didn't look surprised, just grim. "Yeah, I heard. I could hear just about everything." He paused. "You – you did well, you know. Talking to those guys."

Kirishima wished he could have taken a moment to absorb that praise, but his heart was still in his throat. He felt faintly sick. "Midoriya wants to talk to all of us," he said. "He wants us to meet him in the other house. He's there already with Todoroki."

"That guy better have some fucking answers," Bakugou said, his voice a growl. Kirishima would not necessarily have said it in the same way, but he couldn't help agreeing with the idea.

xxxxxx

xxxxxx

Todoroki was ready for Bakugou's anger. He expected it. Deserved it, even.

He knew he should have told them all who he was immediately, and explained the risks associated with that information. That he had only told Midoriya, and only very recently, was unacceptable.

It wasn't going to make telling the others any easier.

"So who were they?" Bakugou asked, looming over him. Todoroki was seated at the kitchen table, Midoriya at his side; Kirishima hovered in the doorway, watching with obvious concern. "Why are there men going from town to town showing a wanted poster with your face on it, telling everyone you're dangerous?"

"I didn't see their faces, so I don't know who the men were," Todoroki said. He stopped and took a deep breath; he was being pedantic. He knew what Bakugou meant. "They were probably working for my father. My father is Endeavor," he added, watching Bakugou's face carefully.

A moment of blankness, and then, yes, _there_ it was – the look he was waiting for: surprise, awe, maybe a little doubt too, and of course fear. Bakugou turned to Midoriya after a moment, his mouth set in a grim line. "I suppose _you_ knew all this already."

"I-I knew that much, yes."

"Bakugou," Kirishima said, coming to stand behind him, "you know Todoroki's father?"

Bakugou sighed. "I know _of_ him. I don't know him myself. He's the royal magician or something. Some bigwig who lives in the royal city…"

"Oh, I suppose that explains why Todoroki can use magic."

That had an immediate effect on Bakugou. " _You_ knew, too?" he said, his voice too loud in the small house. "Everyone knew but me?"

It was the first time Todoroki had ever seen Bakugou yell at Kirishima, maybe the first time Bakugou _had_ ever yelled at Kirishima, but the selkie didn't back down. "It was a secret. I promised I wouldn't tell anyone," he said. "Even you."

"Everyone, listen." That was Midoriya, raising his voice to drown out the lovers' quarrel. "Calm down. We need to talk about this. Bakugou, Kirishima, can you sit down? Todoroki is going to tell us the whole story, and then we'll decide what to do about it."

"Shut up, _Deku_ ," Bakugou said, but he did as Midoriya had ordered, folding his arms against his chest and looking at Todoroki with narrowed eyes. Kirishima's face was still twisted up with worry, and Midoriya looked pale and tired. Todoroki wondered how he himself looked.

"There isn't much to tell," he began. "Like I said, my father is Endeavor, the royal magician. I was being trained to replace him someday – that was the idea. But I didn't want to. I hated it. So I ran away."

They looked at him after he finished. They were waiting for more, he realized. "That's it?" Bakugou said. "That can't be the whole story."

Well, it was and it wasn't, of course. Todoroki felt the "whole story" inside him still, tangled up and hidden impossibly deep, too deep to reach at the moment. He knew it wasn't fair to the others, but he also knew he wasn't able to tell it that day – not in front of all of them, not with nerves still making him feel like he was going to throw up. He'd been ready for an all-out battle against those two men, ready for them to look in the houses and see him and attack. They might have even been magic users too, but even if they were not, it might not have been a battle Todoroki would have won – particularly not with Midoriya and Kirishima so close, because it meant he couldn't be as reckless with his magic. The whole time they'd been talking to the men, Todoroki had been thinking of strategy: what to do if the strangers rushed him, if they took a captive, if they tried to flee to get reinforcements –

So his mind was still ramped up, his hands were still clammy, and he was in no mood to dissect himself just to explain his motives to Bakugou. "That _is_ the whole story, actually," he said, careful to keep his voice level and his face blank. As he spoke the words, he watched something in Bakugou's expression close off – like in that very second a decision had been made, a door shut and locked.

"Either he leaves the village or I do," Bakugou said.

Midoriya and Kirishima turned to look at him, shocked, but Todoroki had been expecting something like this. He nodded. "I understand. I'll leave."

"But–!" Midoriya looked back and forth between them. "The men left. The danger's gone! Shouldn't it be okay for him to stay?"

"That's naïve," Todoroki said. "The fact that they've reached this far means that me being here at all is incredibly risky. If anyone else passes through – someone from Broadstem, for example – and they see me here, they'll probably report it and you'll be punished for aiding me. And I can't change my appearance with magic," he added, looking at Midoriya's hopeful expression. "Not for that long of a time, and not consistently. And no, I won't remain indoors exclusively either."

Midoriya opened his mouth, shut it again, and shook his head. Bakugou spoke: "Deku, you know he's right." The look he gave Todoroki was almost thankful, as if he was glad they weren't arguing more about it. "If I'd known he was on the run, I would have told him to leave sooner."

"That's probably why he didn't tell you," Midoriya said, glaring. He was angry at Bakugou, and Todoroki felt floored. Had the situation been flipped, he would have probably reacted like Bakugou, with distance and distrust. He had no idea how Midoriya could take Todoroki's side despite his secret-keeping and the danger to the others because of it.

"Midoriya," Todoroki said gently, or as close to gently as he could muster. "It's really best I don't stay, for my safety and for everyone else's. I need to keep moving."

"I'm coming with you, of course," Midoriya said quickly, as if he was afraid Todoroki had forgotten their conversation from a few days ago. "I don't care that you're being pursued."

Kirishima's gaze snapped to Midoriya. "What?"

"If Todoroki leaves, I'm not staying here," Midoriya said, raising his chin. "There's nothing left for me." He turned back to Todoroki. "Maybe we can leave a sign for the other possible survivors, a note or something. So if anyone comes back later, they know I survived too."

"Midoriya," Kirishima said, "you're leaving?" His tone was desperate, almost a whine, and Todoroki could tell he was torn. Kirishima had to make a choice between two humans he liked, and one he liked a lot more – it would not be easy for him.

Bakugou noticed his hesitation, too. "Kirishima," he said, his voice angry and pleading at the same time, "we don't have to stay here in the village, we can go back to the ocean – to Broadstem – to another city –"

Kirishima began to cry. Todoroki just watched, unable to offer any comfort, embarrassed for him yet somehow still finding it difficult to look away. "And what if I wanted to travel with them?" Kirishima asked Bakugou. "Would you come too?"

Todoroki braced himself for a flat "no," but Bakugou surprised him. "Come on, Kirishima," he said, his voice almost gentle. He closed his eyes, then opened them a second later and sighed. "Todoroki was just telling us about how dangerous it would be to stay near him. If they catch him, anyone with him would get punished too. Punished a lot worse than _he_ would be, I'd bet." Bakugou snuck Todoroki a look that was almost guilty, but what he'd said was probably true, so Todoroki did not interrupt. "If he gets caught, whoever was helping him would be thrown in jail or killed."

"Midoriya doesn't care about that."

"He's risking nothing! He has _nothing to lose_."

Todoroki looked at Midoriya, but he did not seem to be offended. The implication of Bakugou's words was clear to Todoroki: _He has nothing to lose, but I have you and you have me – right?_ Bakgou was questioning, hoping for a certain answer, not entirely sure he'd get it.

Luckily, at that moment Midoriya spoke up. "You don't have to decide this minute," he said to Kirishima. "Todoroki, when are you leaving?"

"Tomorrow morning," he said. He didn't think Bakugou would let him stay longer than that.

"When are _we_ leaving, I should say," Midoriya said, and shot Todoroki a smile. However sad the rest of the conversation was making him, the promise of Midoriya's companionship was a blessing. Todoroki was deeply glad not to be traveling alone.

"So you have until then to decide," Midoriya added, and rose. "I don't want to kick you out, but, I mean…"

"Yeah, yeah. We're leaving." Bakugou got to his feet, and Kirishima did the same a second later. They walked in silence back to their own house; Todoroki could only imagine the conversation they would be having shortly. He decided to stay away from them until they made a decision, because he wasn't sure he wanted to overhear any of it.

He had a lot to do, anyways. He had his things to pack, and he had to find his horse – she stayed in the general area of the village, but she'd wander up to a mile or two away from their house, grazing. Then he helped Midoriya prepare dinner, their last dinner together in that house for some time – quite possibly forever.

They were silent as they prepared it. Todoroki wondered if Midoriya was running the earlier conversation through his mind, over and over, wondering which way Kirishima and Bakugou would decide to go. Wondering if there was anything that could have been done differently.

"You don't have to come with me, you know," Todoroki said. He didn't want to seem like he was trying to convince Midoriya to stay – he wasn't – but he also didn't want them to be already on the road when Midoriya realized he'd made a mistake. "I wouldn't be offended. I would understand."

"Todoroki!" Midoriya seemed scandalized at the idea. "Stop telling me to change my mind unless you want me to!" He looked over at Todoroki. " _Do_ you want –"

"No!" The amount Todoroki did _not_ want Midoriya to change his mind surprised him. "No. I… I'm happy you're coming with me."

They said nothing more.

Todoroki knew the responsibility of informing Kirishima and Bakugou that dinner was ready would fall to him, and he dreaded it. He didn't want to walk in on them arguing or see Kirishima crying again. But, to his surprise, the two of them came to the house on their own, just before the food was ready. Todoroki knew from the smug expression on Bakugou's face what their decision was, but he said nothing, just waited for one of them to speak.

"I decided I'm going to stay with Bakugou," Kirishima said. His voice quavered a little, but he didn't sound like he was near tears, something Todoroki was grateful for. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, Kirishima," Midoriya said fondly, "don't be sorry! I knew you wouldn't be able to stay forever. This is probably for the best, anyways."

"Yeah," Kirishima said, not sounding completely convinced. "Yeah, I hope so."

"Dinner's ready," Midoriya said, and they sat down and ate in what had to be one of the most uncomfortable silences of all time.

Afterwards, Todoroki helped Midoriya pack his things. He was surprised at how few things either of them had. They wouldn't be able to ride his horse – not both of them _and_ their bags – but she could carry their possessions easily. Todoroki knew he was out of shape, though, and wondered how hard the journey would be for them in that regard.

Later that evening, Kirishima came to say goodbye to Todoroki. They sat in front of the fire in Midoriya's house; Midoriya himself was doing something outside, Todoroki wasn't sure what.

"I'm sorry," Kirishima said again, and Todoroki wondered if it was eating him up, this guilt that he wasn't coming with them. He wondered how often before Kirishima had lost or been separated from people with whom he'd spent a lot of time. From what he'd said about selkie life, probably not often; probably this was the longest he'd spent with people besides Bakugou or his family.

"There's nothing to be sorry for," Todoroki said. "It's a shame they came through. I wish they'd given up looking for me already."

"I hope they never catch you."

"Thanks. Me too."

"Will I ever see you again?"

Todoroki wasn't sure whether the "you" was him alone or he and Midoriya both. It didn't really matter; the answer was the same either way. "I don't know."

"If I want to find you, where will I go?"

"Don't try to find me," Todoroki said. "Not until Endeavor is no longer the royal magician. Keep your ear to the ground and listen for the news of that. Then you can find me. Bakugou will know where to go." He didn't particularly feel like explaining how to get to the palace, not right then.

"Alright." Kirishima looked at him directly, the light of the fire making his skin glow gold. He looked less sad now, and more resigned. "I wonder if I'm making the wrong decision."

"You aren't," Todoroki said. "Well, I don't think you are, at least. And Bakugou certainly doesn't think so."

"I hate this," Kirishima said softly, looking away. "It's really possible I might never see you again, and I have no way of knowing."

Todoroki didn't know what to say to that. It was true. It had hit him a long time ago, years ago; he was used to the comings and goings of those around him, used to those in his life leaving it without warning. But it hadn't been an easy lesson to learn, and he didn't envy Kirishima. Todoroki didn't want to try to reassure him with empty platitudes, so the two of them stared into the fire for a little while, wordless, until Kirishima heaved himself to his feet with a sigh.

"I'd better find Midoriya and say goodbye to him, too." He turned to Todoroki. "You two keep each other safe, alright?"

"If it's any reassurance, I am very good at magic."

For some reason that made Kirishima laugh. "Well, that's good." He paused a second, then jumped forward and gave Todoroki a hug. It lasted only a moment, and Todoroki didn't even have time to hug back before they'd separated. "Safe travels," he said, and actually _ran_ out of the house.

It was bitter, that last night in the bed. In the end, Todoroki had never given it back to Midoriya. Now, of course, it no longer mattered. Starting the next night they'd both be sleeping on the ground, and the bed would only be a fond memory.

Todoroki thought it would take him a long time to fall asleep, but he was surprised at how exhausted he felt – and even more surprised to realize he would be able to sleep without any trouble. He tried to stay awake a little longer to plan a possible route in his head, but soon found himself drifting off. His last thought was one of happy surprise: he'd welcome all the rest he could get now, because, starting the next morning, their journey would be a long one.


End file.
